A Study of Crimson Colour
by The-First-Step
Summary: Charlotte Myers is Mrs Hudson's niece. Fleeing from her old life she enters the world of our favourite men at 221 B Baker Street. It's funny how sociopaths seemed to be drawn together. Sherlock/OC
1. Chapter 1

One

Charlie POV:

It was raining, again, when Charlie walked up to her Aunt's black door and paused before it; hand raised but no touching the wet wood. Plucking up her courage she knocked on the door and waited while the rain soaked through her clothes and the meagre belongings she had managed to pack in the sports bag over her shoulder.

"Fuck!" She whispered as the rain continued to pour.

"I know you're in there Aunty Em, hurry up." She muttered and waited 10 seconds before pulling a hairpin from her hair and jamming it brutally into the lock. A cry of triumph saw the door open in a matter of seconds and Charlie stepped swiftly into the warmth of the landing. A thick but threadbare carpet covered polished floorboards, the walls were a pale green and bare of most decoration. A staircase lead up to the higher floors and a hallway lead to where she knew her Aunt's room was. Dust on the railings of the staircase told her that no-one lived up there at present although scuffed carpet told her that someone had been up there recently.

"Aunty Em!" She called out and a flurry of footsteps from down the corridor soon proved she had been right in her observations. Suddenly Charlie found herself enveloped in the thin but strong arms of her Aunt and, although as fond of her as she could be, stiffened.

"Charlie, oh how wonderful it is to see you. You're so thin, where is your father? How is your mother?" Aunty Em's happy chatter made Charlie remember how annoying supposedly normal people could be.

"He's away, i don't want to know where and my mother kicked me out so I also don't care how she is." Charlie said calmly, without a hint of bitterness. Resentment would mean that she cared what her family thought but she had convinced herself that she didn't years ago.

"Oh, well you are very welcome to stay in one of my rooms upstairs." Her Aunt said and was immediately redeemed of earlier annoyance. Her nature could be counted on after all.

"Thank you. You seem excited about something let me guess…" Charlie said and Aunty Em smiled.

"Someone else wants to rent the 221 B don't they?" She said after a moment and her aunt clapped her hands in glee.

"You will love him; Sherlock's a lot like you." She said and Charlie puzzled over this for a moment.

"I think I'll go put my things down, changing wouldn't be out of the question either as females have a higher mortality rate from the influenza virus during winter." She said airily and her aunt nodded and lead her upstairs and into 221 B. It had a rather cluttered living room and two bedrooms. She dumped her things in the wardrobe in the master bedroom, shaking her flaming red fringe out of her eyes before changed into a dryer ensemble then went into the messy living room. It was nice; cluttered and male but she smiled as she looked at the complicated disorder of experiments on the kitchen table and the bared skull on the mantel. Several armchairs, a violin, tables piled with numerological, chemistry and cryptology books and a painting of a man were scattered about the room.

"I need to get rid of that thing; he'll talk to it till kingdom come if I don't." Aunt Em said and Charlie shook her head.

"Unless he has someone longsuffering enough to talk to he'll want that skull to stay where it is." She said.

"How… never mind." Her aunt began.

"I need to finish cleaning the stairs, I suspect Sherlock will want to take the room." Her aunt babbled off as she left and Charlie lay down on the couch by a Victorian wallpapered wall and propped her hands beneath her chin. It had been 24 months, 6 days and 23 hours since her last cigarette and she suddenly felt the cravings hit her in a sudden heave. While her aunt tiled away downstairs Charlie scrounge the kitchen until she found what she was looking for, the packet of patches hidden behind the toaster. She borrowed two aware that she would need to repay this Sherlock for the patches. She settled back on the couch and waited, listening to the rain, her aunt's terrible singing and the sound of cars driving past the apartment in Baker Street. The sound of men's voices brought a smile to her face but she didn't move an inch. A knock and her aunt's cry of delight and deduced that the infamous Sherlock was about to appear.

Sure enough not even 20 seconds later her aunt entered the room followed by two men; she could tell by the tread and weight of their footsteps. An eyebrow quirked. One of them had a walking stick; but no need of it. Interesting.

"It's a little messy…" One of them said and

"Oh yes well… I can move these…" A deeper voice answered and a loud thump told her the mantel had been stabbed by the pen knife on the coffee table.

"Skull." The first man said.

"Oh yes friend of mine, well I say friend…" The deeper tone took on a cheeky undercurrent and the eyebrow quirked higher.

"Afghanistan or Iraq?" She said and silence fell over the room. She opened her eyes to find all three staring at her. She met their gazes with her own one of complete boredom. One was shorter, with blonde hair, straight back and a kind face. He had a military stance and leant heavily on a walking stick. The other was very tall with dark hair; trench coat and serious expression permanently stuck to his face. His blues eyes seemed to gaze through her and observe every tiny detail. He was also very, very attractive, though she had never been interested in any form of physical or emotional relationship and that was not going to change now She got up and stretched out her hand to them.

"Charlotte Myers; I'm…" She began.

"Niece to our dear Mrs. Hudson." The taller man stated and quirked his head.

"Easy enough to deduce I suppose, I had to be a family member. Several similar facial characteristics. My age would have me being at either a daughter or niece and seeing as you have helped my aunt previously and know she never had children it was correct to assume I was her niece." Charlie answered and the man's eyebrow quirked as he smirked approvingly.

"Exactly." He said and the other man seemed confused and lost. At her look he recovered and shook her hand.

"John Watson." He said and she smiled.

"Pleasure to meet you." She said and he smiled.

"I won't ask how you knew about Afghanistan; however now I have reason to fear that there may be more than one of him around." He joked and she laughed.

"Yes, Watson thank you." The man she now realised to be Sherlock said . Her aunt bustled away to presumably make some tea and the two men started to talk to each other; Sherlock was apparently some sort of detective. Consulting Detective if she guessed right; which was pretty much always. She sat herself back down on the couch and listened to the conversation with interest. They were arguing on the fact that he could identify a pilot by his left thumb went her aunt returned.

"How about these suicides then Sherlock? Thought it would be right up your street. All three the same."

"Four."

"Pardon?"

"There's been a fourth and something is different." A man in a light trench coat and police badge ran up the stairs.

"Where?" Sherlock called over his shoulder.

"Brixton. Lauriston Gardens." The man replied, slightly out of breath.

"Difference?"

"They left a note." He was obviously desperate for them to leave, edging away already. He gazed at Charlie and smiled. Her eyebrow quirked and she stood.

"Who's on forensics?"

"Anderson but…"

"Anderson won't work with me."

"He's not your assistant."

"Maybe I need one."

"Will you come?"

"I'll get a taxi. Be right behind you." This conversation happened very fast and the man turned away and disappeared down the stairs. The moment he was gone Sherlock jumped in the air and clapped.

"Yes!" He stared to ramble to himself, picked up his coat and scarf and headed to the door.

"Have some tea John, pleasure to meet you Charlie." He yelled and disappeared. John gazed after him and sat down. Her aunt moved to him. The bickered about tea and landladies, John blaming his leg for a blast of temper. However Charlie moved to the door and waited. Sure enough Sherlock was back he looked at her in surprise and she smirked. He rolled his eyes. John finally realised he was there.

"You're an army doctor." Sherlock said.

"Yes."

"A good one."

"Very."

"And you, you're extremely observant; might see something I miss."

"Both seen bodies, wounds…" They nodded.

"Enough for a lifetime. No, more than enough." John answered.

"Want to see some more?" Sherlock asked and Charlie gazed in anticipation at John, already standing behind Sherlock.

"Oh god yes." The shorter man replied and she laughed as they rushed down the stairs and onto Baker Street.

Sherlock POV:

An enigma. That's what he would call Charlotte Myer's. Talented enough sure, but she didn't even seem to be overly aware of just how much. He watched her in the taxi as she gazed out the window; a look of childlike wonder on her face making him deduce an immature side. He also noted that she avoided physical contact, didn't react to most emotional responses and seemed to drift away from reality more than normal. She was probably a sociopath or at least high functioning one like himself.

"All right you've got questions." Sherlock stated, glancing to his right. John sighed.

"Yes, who are you. What do you do?"

"I think you can figure that out."

"I'd say private detective? But the police don't go to amateurs for help..." John drifted off.

"I'm a consulting detective."

"A what?" Charlie asked and Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"I saw that." She teased. He inwardly smiled.

"When the police are out of their depth…"

"i.e always." Charlie muttered under her breath. Sherlock nodded for this was extremely true.

"They come to me for help." He finished.

John took this in and wondered aloud whether Sherlock was actually as good as he said. This turned out to be a mistake as he then went on to explain everything about him down to the phone he carried with his brother's name on the back. Silence reigned for a moment and he noticed Charlie staring at her reflection, smoothing her bobbed red strands behind her ear and using the window to wipe the smudged mascara from under her green eyes. Her hair was stunning in colour, a deep crimson that was extremely hard to come by nowadays since the genotype was rapidly breeding out. It swayed just below her pale chin and emphasised her almost fluorescent green eyes. He also noticed that she was very thin. Not dangerously so but enough to be noticeable. He also noted, for some unknown reason that she was extremely attractive.

"That was amazing." John said and Sherlock's attention was snatched back to him. For a moment he lost track of what John had said.

"Really?" He asked.

"Of course it was. It was incredible."

He remembered what most people seemed to say when he did this and decided John must be an anomaly.

"That's not what most people say." He said.

"Really what do they say?"

"Piss off." He answered and Charlie mouth curved slightly and she laughed quietly as they pulled up. He wasn't entirely sure why but Sherlock decided that unlike most people's laughter, he could definitely bare hers.

Charlie POV:

"Did he miss anything?" She asked John as they exited the car.

"He was right about the family dynamics, Harry and I don't get along, never have really. Harry and Clara broke up last year…"

"So…"

"Harry is short for Harriet." John said with a small smile.

Charlie was aware that Sherlock had stopped walking and turned to see a rather amusing expression on his face, like he had swallowed something that was extremely disgusting.

"Sister!" He exclaimed and she started to laugh.

"Oh come on Sherlock, I only got that it was a family member's with a broken marriage." She said but he scowled and muttered about siblings under his breath. A short curly hair woman stood before the police taped house.

"Hello Freak." She called spitefully and Charlie decided this woman was annoying, even more so than her mother; which was a hard thing to do.

"We're here to see Inspector Lestrade." Sherlock said brightly and she sniffed.

"Why?"

"I was invited." He retorted and went to step under the tape.

"And whose this?" She demanded, indicating to the two people behind him and Sherlock fixed her with a glare.

"Colleges." He said and she snorted.

"Watson, Charlotte this is Sargent Donovan."

"Colleges, since when did you have colleges?" She demanded. "Obviously since you last saw him which couldn't have be very long going by the state of the police department these days." She said as if discussing the weather and Sherlock almost cracked a smile. It was a great day, she decided. Except that he still called her by thatgod awful full name of hers.

"Freak's here. Bringing him in." Donovan spoke into her radio and lifted the tape to allow them through. A greasy, dark haired man walked out of the house and faced off Sherlock.

"Do not contaminate my crime scene Holmes. Am I clear?"

"Crystal clear Anderson. Wife away for long?"

Anderson frowned.

"How...?"

"Your deodorant."

"My deodorant?" The man stuttered and Sherlock nodded.

"It's for men." He said and the man looked unimpressed.

"Of course it's for men I'm wearing it."

"So is Sargent Donovan." Sherlock pointed out and Charlie realised that she could also smell it. She smirked.

"Now whatever you're trying to imply."

"We're not implying anything." Charlie spoke up and she looked over Donovan.

"I'm sure Sally popped around for a nice little chat and ended up staying the night. She must have scrubbed your floors too going by the state of her knees." She continued and couldn't help but laugh at the twin look of horror on their faces. Sherlock was now grinning, neatly stepped past the two and sent Donovan a rather amused expression as he passed. Charlie walked beside Sherlock as they entered the crack house, rolling her eyes at the Inspectors un-impressing speech on bringing unqualified people into a crime scene.

"If you want to know inspector I have a PhD in Criminology and a BA in Psychology." Charlie stated in a bored voice and began to walk up the stairs, ignoring the protests as she followed the undusted trail up the stairs and onto a landing filled with crime investigators. She pulled her leather jacket more firmly around her as the temperature dropped. Sherlock brushed passed her into one of the rooms and she waited while John made his way up. Together they walked into the doorway Sherlock had just gone through to find a dead woman, dressed in an alarming shade of pink, lying on her face in the centre of the room. Beside her left hand R-A-C-H-E was scrawled onto the wood of the floor.

"Well that is just disgusting." Charlie stated and Sherlock looked at her in shock.

"Charlotte, if you can't handle it go outside." He said and she snorted.

"Don't call me that." She snapped.

"Besides it's not the body. It's that woman's disastrous fashion sense that has me retching. I can actually feel my eyes burning." She said and clasped her palms to said organs dramatically. She peeked through to see him roll his eyes and go back to inspecting the body.

"You've got two minutes." Lestrade called and the two geniuses looked at each other and smiled. Two minutes would be just fine.

**Comment. Review. Spam. Love. Hate. Anything! Hopefully people will like this; I love Sherlock and can't wait for the second season. **


	2. Chapter 2

Two

**Disclaimer: merely because a lot of this is taken from the show I'll only claim Charlotte as my own. Benedict Cumberbatch unfortunately belongs elsewhere **

Charlie POV: 

In all her 28 years of life Charlie had never seen anything quite as horrendous as this woman's fashion sense; and she'd attended university for a Criminology Degree!

"Her name is Jennifer Wilson. We're scanning her credit cards for personal details. Hasn't been here long. Found by some kids." Lestrade said behind her and Charlie turned to John as their rather estranged roommate knelt beside the dead woman. He wiped his fingers beneath her collar, emptied her pockets of any belongings she had and removed her rather shabby looking wedding ring.

"John, what do you get from the ring?" She whispered and the poor man turned to her in shock.

"Um, it's old." He said and she smirked.

"Yes, unimportant but correct." She said and he shook his head exasperatedly.

"I'd say she's been married for about 10 or more years, unhappily so. She's a serial adulteress too." Charlie said calmly and John looked at her in shock whilst Sherlock just nodded and kept inspecting his crime scene.

"If you're just making that up…" Lestrade said.

"She's German." A nasally voice broke in and Charlie turned to see Anderson leaning against the door frame.

"Rache is German for revenge. It could be a message." He said. Sherlock got up.

"Yes, thank you for your input." He said and slammed the door in his face.

"Charlotte," He demanded.

"Yes. Don't call me that!"

"Where has there been heavy rain and wind in the last three hours?" He asked, ignoring the comment.

"Cardiff." She said without bothering to look at her phone. It had been raining there this morning, when her bitch of a mother had decided enough was enough. _You do not care. _Her inner voice told her.

"So she's not German?" Lestrade asked.

"Not even close." She said as Sherlock went on to explain why the woman was from Cardiff, something to do with the dampness of her collar but the dryness of her umbrella.

"John you're a medical man, what do you think?" Sherlock asked and Lestrade almost blew his top at this new breach in protocol. Sherlock as always just ignored him pointing out.

"But you need me."

"Yes I do, God help me. Five minutes." He said and disappeared into the landing; calling his team away for a break.

"Come on John." Charlie said and the man sighed as he carefully eased himself down beside the body.

"What do you think?" Sherlock asked.

"Why am I doing this?" John asked pointedly and Sherlock looked at him like it was obvious.

"Helping me make a point." He answered.

"I'm supposed to help you pay the rent." John complained.

"Yes but this is more fun."

"Fantastic, I'm sharing a flat with a madman." Charlie muttered under her breath.

"I heard that.' Sherlock muttered and Charlie looked at him with a scowl. Lestrade reappeared.

"I'd say… asphyxiation, choked on her own vomit. Could have been a seizure or drugs…" John noted expertly, checking the woman's hands.

"Come on you've seen the papers." Sherlock put in and John looked shocked.

"Alright that's it. You have to tell me what you've got." Lestrade said and Sherlock did, explaining everything about her personal life down to her the size of her suitcase. Charlie was happy that her idea of a serial adulteress was correct. However the suitcase was something she had missed.

"Why do you keep saying suitcase?" Lestrade asked.

"Oh yes the suitcase, where did you put it." Sherlock said and looked around the empty room.

"There wasn't a case." Sherlock stopped and fixed Lestrade with a penetrating stare.

"Say that again." He demanded.

"There wasn't a case." Lestrade repeated and Sherlock looked at Charlie as she gasped.

"You've got it too, oh good; I'm not the only person around here with an IQ." He said and John spluttered as did Lestrade. Sherlock rushed out into the landing and yelled.

"Has anyone seen a suitcase? Was there a suitcase anywhere in this house?"

"There was no suitcase?" Lestrade shouted.

"Oh come on. They take the pills themselves. They chew them, swallow them; there are clear signs even you lot couldn't miss."

"Yeah thanks for that.'

"Why do you keep saying it's a murder?"

"Look at her, really look at her. Where's her case did she eat it?" Sherlock mocked.

"The killer obviously has the case." Charlie said when no one said anything. Sherlock nodded.

"Oh I love serial killers, their always tricky, have to wait for them to make a mistake." He stopped.

"People could die." Lestrade said desperately.

"Look at her really look, he's already made his first one. Look at the family and friends, find Rachael." Sherlock was now running down the stairs and out the door.

"What mistake!" Lestrade demanded after him.

"Pink!" Charlie and Sherlock cried at the same time. The house was silent with shock as the two looked at each other at opposite end of the staircase. Sherlock winked up at her and was gone.

"Well that's it everyone." Lestrade said and Charlie looked at her watch.

"Holy shit, crap, damn, shit!" She yelled and more than one person looked scandalized.

"What's up?" John asked.

"I'm so late for work." Charlie said as she helped him down the stairs. Together they walked out of the house and down the garden path. Donovan was still there.

"He's gone." She said spitefully.

"Oh well, just have to catch another cab." Charlie said, not really surprised that Sherlock was gone. Being a sociopath helped her sometimes. For some reason though she was disappointed he had gone without her; life wasn't boring with him around.

"Oh well John, we'll just have our own private party without him.' Charlie joked and John smiled. A worried look came over him.

'Ah Charlie?" He asked and she broke off her staring to look at him.

"Where are we?"

"Brixton, but apart from that I have no idea." She said.

"He's abandoned you then?" Sally's voice cut through their confusion.

"More like he's gone off to do your own job for you but yeah he's gone." Charlie said. Donovan sniffed.

"Why don't you like him?" John asked her.

"Let's just say: One day we'll be standing around a body and Sherlock Holmes will be the one who put it there." She said snidely. Oh brother.

"Why do you say that?" John said, looking a little unsure.

"He's a psychopath and psychopaths get bored." Donovan said and Charlie felt the first waves of anger start to form.

"He's not a psychopath, more likely a sociopath and there is a fucking difference." Charlie spat and Donovan looked annoyed.

"I'll give you some advice." She said to John.

"Stay away from Sherlock Holmes." She walked off.

"Come on, I think I see human activity this way.' Charlie said and pulled John by his arm towards a busier looking road. He held out his arm for her, a complete gentleman. She stared at it for a second then looped her arm through his as they walked.

"Why did you stick up for him?" John asked, Charlie thought about it.

"No one else does, we sociopaths need to stick together.' Charlie said and John looked unconvinced.

"You don't seem to be a sociopath.' He said and she looked at him.

"Actually, I'm seeing it now.' He muttered and she nodded, unsmiling.

"I think I probably have less sociopathic tendencies then he does, he's something else." She remarked, almost to herself.

"You like him?" John queried.

'No, of course not. I'm a sociopath remember.' She rebuked and he backed down a bit, but his eyes twinkled with something akin to amusement.

"So, why do you use a cane when you don't actually need one?" Charlie asked and John looked shocked.

"I was shot.' He said and she smirked.

"Yeah well, your psychologist has it wrong." Charlie said and would say no more. At that moment a telephone booth beside them began to ring, they stared at it as they passed by didn't answer. Another started to ring a little way down the street as they passed by. Charlie shared a look with John. Another in a restaurant; stopping when the male waiter went to pick it up.

"Okay, if another one rings we'll answer.' She said and sure enough the next booth they passed began to ring. John un-looped his arm; Charlie feeling more than a little better when he did so. Not that she didn't like John but physical contact was just a little left-wing for her tastes. She watched as John picked up the phone and answered it.

"Hello." He said and listened to the response. His eyes flicked around the street and Charlie noticed that every camera he looked at turned itself away.

"Very clever." He said as a black car pulled up and the door was opened. John hung up the phone and indicated to Charlie that they had to get in. A pretty, dark haired woman sat texting by the other window and Charlie gave her a single, questioning look before giving up and ignoring her. John on the other hand tried to flirt, unsuccessfully, with her until Charlie kicked him and he shut up. The car pulled up in an underground car park and the two flat mates got out. Charlie spotted another man, leaning casually on an umbrella some 20 feet away.

"Hello John, Charlotte I'm glad you could join me." The mystery man said. He was taller than John, late 40's with thinning hair and an air of self-importance. There was something about him that seemed too familiar.

'That was quite impressive.' John said as they walked towards him.

'But I have a phone, you could have just called me, on my phone." He continued pointedly.

"Yes well," The man said, his tone sounding perpetually bored.

'When one deals with Sherlock Holmes you need to use uh discretion.' He said and Charlie quirked her eyebrow.

"You don't look very scared." This man said.

"You don't look very scary.' John replied coolly.

"You had better have a good reason why you're making me even later for work." She said and the man chuckled.

"Your supervisior has been informed that you are busy." He said and her eyes widened. Who was this man?

"Who are you?" She asked.

"The closest thing Sherlock has to a friend. He would probably call me his arch-enemy; he does tend to be a little over dramatic."

"What do you want?" Charlie asked.

"Information on Sherlock homes. Nothing intrusive, nothing to make you feel uncomfortable just his comings and goings. You would of course receive a significant amount of money for you actions…" He said but John was already shaking his head.

'No." He said and looked pointedly at Charlie. It was a hard one, if they had the money they wouldn't have to worry about rent payments but John was looking at her in such a betrayed way…

"Sorry, I can't accept." She said after a long pause. The man looked shocked.

"Come now Charlotte, we both know it's a worthy notion; pretty much hassle free.' He pointed out and once again that annoying thing known as a conscious told her not to accept.

"No." She said.

"Interesting," he said then turned back to John.

"It says here trust issues. Could it be that you've decided to trust Sherlock Holmes of all people." The man asked and John immediately grew wary.

"How do you know that?" He demanded.

"You have a tremor in your left hand. Your psychologist thinks you have a tremor because of stress sustained in battle. Fire her, she's wrong. You're under stress now but your hand is perfectly steady. You don't fear the war Dr. Watson, you miss it." The man said and John seemed to be speechless.

"Told you so." She whispered and he sent her an ugly look. Both their phones rang at the same time.

_If convenient come to Baker Street. SH_

While she stood there marveling at Sherlock's abilities to invade her privacy. Their interrogator continued to speak. However he was cut off by their phones ringing again.

_If inconvenient come anyway. SH_

"I'm gonna kill him." Charlie mumbled.

"Sorry we have to go." She said as their phones rang for the first time. She didn't even bother to look at the message.

"Farewell Miss Myers, I'll be watching you very carefully."

"Yes because that's not creepy at all." She said and John chuckled as they clambered back into the car.

'Well hurry up, you know where to take us." She called to the driver who scowled and started the engine. John just looked exasperated and settled back in his seat.

Sherlock was lying on his back on the couch, his arm held before him as he breathed deeply and evenly. John went in for the kill.

"Well we're here, what is it?" He asked.

"I need to borrow your phone." He said and John spluttered. Charlie decided she wanted the couch to and sat down on Sherlock's legs making him jump. He sat up and the both of them nearly went flying.

'What the…" She simply looked at him, eyebrow quirked and he shrugged. He lay back down and closed his eyes.

'We were on the other side of London, why didn't you just call my Aunt? She has a phone." Charlie said and Sherlock smirked.

'I called out but she didn't hear me." He said and directed his voice at John.

"There's a number on that desk, type it in and write exactly what I say.' He said and waited. John picked up the piece of paper and began to type in the number.

'Do you have it?

"Yes.'

"Have you done it?"

"Nearly."

"Now.'

"Hold you bloody horses."

Charlie pulled off her shoes and settled against the back of the couch. She noticed John looking at her arm and its two nicotine patches. She plucked the packet from the floor and stuck another one on.

'Is that that three patches?" John demanded.

"It's a three patch problem." Sherlock muttered.

"Impossible to sustain a smoking habit in London these days. Bad news for thinking." He said and Charlie nodded sadly looking at her own patched arm.

"Good news for breathing though.

"Urgh breathing, dull." Sherlock said disgusted.

"Alright write this down; What happened last night? I must have blacked out. 22 Northumberland Street." Sherlock said.

"You blacked out?" John asked and Sherlock shook his head.

"We met a friend of yours.' John said.

"A friend?" Sherlock looked scandalized.

"He called himself your archenemy." The confusion cleared instantly.

'Oh." He said.

"Who was he?" Charlie asked and Sherlock looked at her, she stared at him hard.

'One of the most dangerous men you will ever meet and not my concern right now." He said and went to get up, stumbling when his long legs got tangles with Charlie's and they both tumbled to the ground. Her shirt rode up and the end of an ugly looking scar appeared. Quickly she rolled it down but not before Sherlock's quick eyes saw it. The dark blue eyes seemed to darken slightly.

'Brilliant work Shirley.' Charlie snapped and glared at him.

"Where did you get that?" He asked and she quickly got up.

"None of your bloody business." She said and her eyes fell on a bright pink suitcase.

"You found it then?" She said and diverted his attention. He continued to look at her strangely but went along with it.

Yes, the killer would have had to have dropped it; look at the colour." He said and explained rapidly how he had found it in the skip based on its disgusting colour. Charlie shook her crimson head in wonder as he explained it. He was very good. She prided herself on being observant but she was nowhere near what Sherlock was.

"So the number was Jennifer's, it's not here so where is it?' She asked and John slumped in his armchair. Sherlock looked at them with a smirk. Charlie rolled her eyes as she put two and two together.

"Did I just text a serial killer?" John asked a few moments later. Silence filled the room as Charlie nursed her wounded pride and Sherlock waited. Suddenly John's phone began to ring.

"He has the phone of a woman he knows is dead yet he receives a message that can only be from her; what does he do?" Sherlock said and his eyes seemed to glitter as the phone stopped calling.

**Thanks for reading and thanks to everyone who has reviewed; I have been patching up a few things and hope you enjoy where this is going. **


	3. Chapter 3

Three

**Hey guys. My thoughts are with all my readers in London at the moment. Be safe guys; I hope those riots die down soon. For those in other countries keep thinking about places in the world where it may not be as safe as you are right now to put your head on a pillow and fall asleep. Anyway…**

Charlie POV:

Charlie watched in amusement as Sherlock leapt over the back of his chair in excitement and began to rush around the room.

"Shouldn't we be talking to the police?" John asked and both his companions turned to fix him with a similar looks of 'are you serious'.

"There's no time to talk to the police." Sherlock said and grabbed his jacket.

"So why are you talking to us?" Charlie asked.

"Because your Aunt took my skull." Sherlock said and Charlie smirked.

"I told her you wouldn't like it." She said and Sherlock looked at her.

"When?"

"Before I met you two, I was dumping my stuff in the bedroom and she remarked on how much she didn't like you talking to it; she's awfully fond of you." Charlie said and Sherlock snorted

"Come on Charlotte." He said and she whacked him hard on the back of his head.

"Don't call me that." She said and he chuckled.

"We're chasing a serial killer." John piped up and the two stopped staring at each other to look at him.

"And I said dangerous and here you are." He said and Charlie looked at her phone in confusion. She looked down at her jeans, faded black shirt and leather motorcycle jacket wondering if her scuffed converses would make it past her next birthday. She grabbed Sherlock, not sure where they were heading but excited to get out of the apartment. She grinned at the sound of John swearing and following them a few moments later.

Sherlock POV:

"What? You ink he's stupid enough to go there?" John asked incredulously and Sherlock wondered how boring it was in normal peoples brains; so relaxing.

"No, I think he's brilliant enough. I love the brilliant ones, always so desperate get caught."

"Why?"

"They need an audience," Charlie answered as they headed down cold Northumberland Street towards Angelo's.

"Most serial killers are narcissists, they thrive on recognition." She continued and John nodded.

"Think!" Sherlock just about shouted and several passing people gave him strange look.

"Who hunts in the middle of a crowd? Who do we trust even though we don't know them?"

"I don't know. Who?" John asked and Sherlock laughed. Charlie looked very serious and didn't answer. She was by far one of the most interesting people he had met and definitely the most interesting woman he'd ever met. Must be the hair; he decided then mentally kicked himself.

"Haven't the foggiest. Hungry anyone?" He said and directed them into the warm, red light of Angelo's café. Guiding them to a window seat and never taking his eyes off 22 Northumberland Street.

"That must be 22 Northumberland Street then." Charlie asked and he nodded, barely looking around when Angelo turned up with their menus.

"Sherlock! Anything on the menu, anything you want is free. Same for your friends." He said and Sherlock turned to see him staring at Charlie who, like him, had been staring at the address She now smiled awkwardly at Angelo who began to explain how Sherlock had cleared his name.

"This is Angelo, a few years back I managed to convince Inspector Lestrade that at the time of a particularly vicious triple homicide Angelo here was in another part of town housebreaking." He said and Charlie extended her hand. Angelo kissed it gently. Charlie smiled a bit more.

"Cleared my name he did." Angelo said proudly and Charlie raised her water glass to Sherlock.

"I cleared it a bit." He muttered.

"Anything you need?" Angelo asked as John perused the menus, Charlie shook her head and Sherlock merely looked away. John ordered and they all sat in silence until Angelo returned with a candle which he placed in front of Charlie with a wink. Charlie looked at him confusedly but thanked him before turning her attention to the white tablecloth in front of him.

"People don't have arch enemies. Not in real life." John said.

"Really? How dull." Sherlock muttered.

"So who did we meet?" Charlie asked quietly and Sherlock momentarily thought about answering her honestly but shook it off.

"What _do _people have then? In real life." He asked instead and she shrugged which made them both smirk.

"Friends, people they like, people they don't like, girlfriends, boyfriends..." John said as he ticked them off.

"Like I said, dull." Sherlock muttered and thought that was the end of the discussion. Turned out that after Angelo returned with the food John just had another bout of questions which for some reason seemed to involve his love life, or as he thought about it, lack thereof. He could see that Charlie was rather amused.

"Boyfriend then? Which is completely fine..." John asked and erlock felt a brief feeling of amusement.

"Oh I know its fine." A small smile tugged at his lips

"But no."

"So you're unattached then...like me..." John began. Sherlock clicked two and two together. Awkwardly he tried to sort out this situation.

"John I'm flattered but I consider myself married to my work..."

John backtracked instantly.

"No, no I'm just say that it's all fine." John struggled to say whilst his face flushed beet red.

"It's alright John, I'm sure if Sherlock was into that kind of thing he' be genuinely flattered." Charlie teased and John started to cough into his pasta. Sherlock felt a small smile twitch at the corners of his mouth.

"Holy cow hell just froze over." Charlie exclaimed and Sherlock looked at r with a quirked eyebrow.

"John," She whispered.

"I think our little Shirley had his first real smile." She said and John chuckled at Sherlock whose face suddenly darken. He faced away from them to glare into the street.

""Taxi, across the street. No one getting in, no one getting out. Why a taxi?"

They turned to look.

"Don't stare."

"You just told us to look!"

"Yes but we can't all stare."

He saw her roll her eyes and smirked. Well what did she honestly expect after a comment like that? Suddenly he was on his feet and rushing out the door, running into the traffic and sliding over the bonnet of one of the cars. A thump behind him told him Charlie was on his heels and an apology told him John wasn't far away either. The taxi began to leave and drew further away. In an instant he had stopped; desperately remembering the map of this particular section of London. Street names, traffic light and short cuts streamed through his head and he grabbed Charlie by her sleeve and dragged her into a nearby alley. They were up on the roofs and running swiftly over the streets of Soho. He cleared a gap with ease and waited slightly while Charlie jumped it without hesitation. John faltered.

"Come on, we're losing him." He yelled and didn't wait for John to catch up but simple raced down a iron stairway and into another alley. Cars moved up ahead and he turned right, Charlie running easily by his side. She seemed to barely touch the ground as she ran, her breathing even as she raced through the dark streets of London.

"Come on John." He yelled over his shoulder. The taxi stopped and Sherlock ripped open to door, startling the passenger inside. He saw in a moment it wasn't the right man. He was terrified and his suitcases told him he was from California. He leant on the side o the taxi and spoke breathlessly to the poor man; feeling a little foolish a leading Charlie through Soho on a wild goose chase.

"Are you the police?" The man asked and Charlie smiled.

"Yes sir, non-uniform sector." She said and he gave her a quick up and down. Sherlock felt annoyed why did every man he meet seemed to not stop ogling her like a piece of meat.

"Is everything okay?" He asked and the man nodded mutely.

"Well welcome to London." Sherlock backed off as Charlie waved goodbye. The taxi drove off and the three of them stood back to catch their breaths, Charlie suddenly doubled over.

"Not the murderer then. Wrong country, good alibi." Charlie stated.

"What?" Sherlock asked, John was just standing there smiling.

"Nothing. Just...Welcome to London? Seriously? And that badge...Where did you get it?" He asked. He held it up and watched Charlie read the name.

"DI Lestrade?"

"Yeah, I pickpocket him when he's annoying. Here, call it a welcome gift; I've got plenty back at the flat."

She caught it and smirked. She glanced down the street and Sherlock followed her gaze. There were two uniformed policemen on their way towards them and the taxi passenger was just finishing his discussion with them.

"Got your breath back?" Sherlock asked and Charlie nodded. John spoke.

"Ready when you are." The three of them bailed, running as fast as possible down the busy street.

Charlie POV

The three of them burst into the apartment at 221 Baker Street, completely out of breath and laughing hysterically as they leant against the wall.

"That was the most ridiculous thing I have ever done." John said through his laughter.

"And you invaded Afghanistan." Sherlock said and Charlie simply laughed harder, tears of mirth sliding down her face. They were interrupted by a knock at the door. John went to answer it and found Angelo standing there holding his forgotten walking stick.

"Ah thanks." He said and turned to find Sherlock studying the opposite wall with avid attention. He was about to say something when Aunt Em ran into the room in tears and in a state of near hysteria.

"Oh Sherlock, what have you done?" She asked and Charlie ran forward to support her.

"Mrs. Hudson?" He asked and she pointed upstairs.

"Upstairs, just burst in waving a warrant." She said and collapsed in Charlie's arms.

"Go sort out Lestrade, I'll be up in a moment and kick his arse." She said and watched as the boys disappeared. Carefully she herded her aunt back to her room, sat her down on her lounge and clasped her aunt to her in one of her rare hugs. The shock of such an action had her aunt out of hysterics in a moment.

"Are you alright Aunty Em?" Charlie asked and the older woman nodded, wiping tears from her cheeks and smiling.

"Of course, just gave me a bit of a fright. They came in saying something about a drug bust. Oh I hope Sherlock hasn't done anything wrong." She said and Charlie sighed.

"I surprisingly doubt that Aunty Em, Sherlock wouldn't do stuff like that in the middle of a case." She said and her aunt nodded vigorously.

"Of course, he's just like you with those mysteries we made you for Christmas." Her aunt said and Charlie nodded.

"Exactly, just like my mysteries." All these emotions were making her very uncomfortable but it was her aunt; the only family member she could stand being around and Lestrade was going to hear about this.

"Do you think you can manage?" She asked Em. She nodded and pushed Charlie to the door.

"Tell them that if they break anything they can pay for it." She said and Charlie nodded. She walked upstairs to find their apartment crawling with police officers. Sherlock was in the middle of telling John to shut up in the centre of the room and Lestrade was gazing around smugly. Charlie up to him and pressed a trembling finger to his chest.

'You absolute asshole." She screamed and he jumped about a foot in the air.

'My aunt is downstairs crying because of you and your team, she thought something had happened… you scared her half to hell and set up a pretend drug bust to bully us."

"We knew he'd find the case."

"I'm not your sniffer dog!" Sherlock called from behind her.

"No, Anderson's my sniffer dog." Lestrade shot back. Charlie gazed at the waving man and Sherlock almost lost the plot.

"Anderson at are you doing on a drugs bust?" He yelled.

"Oh I volunteered." The man said spitefully.

"They all did." Lestrade said and Charlie nearly lost the plot.

"Technically none of them are on the drugs team but they were very keen." Donovan appeared from the kitchen with a jar in her hand.

"Are these human eyes?" She asked.

"Put those back!"

"They were in the microwave."

"It's an experiment." Charlie snatched the jar from her and placed it backing the microwave without a word. She returned to her position beneath Lestrade's nose and glared u at him. Lestrade tried to look as superior as he could with a red haired woman in front of him who gazed at his and his team in fury and whose entire body seemed to shake with suppressed anger.

"Keep looking everyone, unless of course you want to start actually helping us…" This was aimed at Sherlock.

"This is childish."

"I'm dealing with a child."

"So you set up a pretend drugs bust to bully me?"

"Stops being pretend if we find anything."

"I don't even smoke anymore." Sherlock complained and rolled back his sleeve to reveal a nicotine patch. Lestrade did the same and they stared at the similar patches in silence.

"We found Rachel." He said after a moment and Charlie stopped death staring him.

"Really? We need her in… interview her. Who is she?" Sherlock asked.

"Jennifer Wilson's stillborn daughter. She died 14 years ago." Charlie and Sherlock exchanged confused looks. John however just looked sadly at the two of them.

"What?" She asked and he just shook his head.

"Her daughter's name...why?" Sherlock asked and she shrugged.

"Never mind that! We found the case. _Someone_ told us that it would be with the murderer and here it is in the hands of our favourite psychopath!" Anderson said and Charlie sighed heavily but Sherlock beat her to it.

"I'm a high function sociopath, do your research." He said viciousy and Charlie nodded.

"I'm surprised he didn't know that after I told his little girlfriend the same thing." She said and he looked at her in surprise.

"You did?"

"Yeah, BA in Psychology and everything, not to mention being one myself." She said and he smiled slightly.

"Thank you."

"Don't mention it, really don't." She said and he laughed.

"Anyway, Jennifer Wilson...why would she do that? Why?"

"Why think about her daughter in her last moments? Yeah, sociopath, seeing it now." Anderson said snidely and Charlie glared at him. All these idiots were driving her mad, no wonder Sherlock was the way he was, being normal would probably kill him if he spent it around Anderson.

"No, she didn't just think of her. She scratched her name into the floor with her _finger nails_. It would take effort, it would have hurt! Why?"

John piped up

"Well you said he makes them take the pills...maybe he speaks to them, used the death of her daughter to make her do it."

"Yeah but that was ages ago! Why would she still be upset?"

There was a silence so thick you could have cut it with a knife.

"Not good?" He guessed.

"Bit not good, yeah." John replied in the now silent room.

"If you were dying, if you were being murdered, what would you say?" He asked and Charlie watched John stumble some lame answer and Sherlock nearly loose it all over again.

"Jennifer, running all those lovers, she was clever. Cleverer than you lot and she's dead." He yelled as her aunt entered the room.

"Sherlock your cab's here." She said and he frowned.

"I didn't order a taxi. Go away." Charlie poked him lightly.

"Oh their making such a mess of things." Aunty Em said distractedly.

"SHUT UP!" Sherlock suddenly exploded and the whole room went still.

"Everybody shut up! Don't move, don't breathe...Anderson face the other way, your face is putting me off!"

"What? My face?" Charlie laughed and sat down on a spare space on the kitchen bench. Sherlock was now pacing.

"Anderson, turn your back." Lestrade commanded.

"Oh for God's sake..." Anderson snarled but faced the opposite wall.

"What about your taxi?" Her aunt cried.

"MRS HUDSON!" Sherlock and even Charlie flinched a small bit. She threw him a dark look as her aunt scurried off. Suddenly Sherlock got a look on his face that stated to everyone in the room that he was having a massive case-related epiphany.

"Oh! Yes, she was clever! She's cleverer than you lot and she's dead! Don't you see? She didn't lose her phone! She planted it! When she got out of that car she knew she was going to her death. She left it to lead us to her killer!"

"How?"

"What do you mean how? Oh look at all your faces, is it nice not being me. It must be so relaxing. You're all look so vacant. Except…" Charlie jumped off the table and ran to the pink case and flipped the name tag.

"He has her phone?"

"Yes."

"Then we have her password and our ticket to finding her killer." Charlie cried and hurried to the laptop.

"John read me that email address." She demanded and John read it out.

"So we can read her emails, Whoop-de-do." Anderson said.

"Shut up Anderson, you lower the entire IQ of the street. Besides we can do much more than read her emails. It's a smart phone, it's got GPS so that if you lose it you can find it. She's leading us to her killer!"

He took a step backwards as Mrs Hudson walked back upstairs.

"Sherlock this taxi driver..." She began.

"Isn't it time for you evening soother Mrs Hudson?" he said harshly "We'll need to move fast – phone batteries don't last forever..."

"Sherlock?" Charlie spoke, eyes glued to the screen. He continued to talk.

"Sherlock?" She tried again.

"Shirley!" He turned to face her, eyebrows raised she smirked.

"That one is now official." She muttered.

"What?"

"It's here. How is that possible? We texted him and he called back!"

"Try again." Suggested John and Sherlock picked up his phone which had vibrated on the table in front of them. He carefully read a text.

"Yeah...try again. I'm just popping out. Won't be long." She watched him walk outside. A man suddenly walked in carrying a book she now recognized as her diary.

"Give that to me!" She screamed and marched up to him. She tried to snatch it away but he clung onto it and it turned into a tug of war. Suddenly to whole spine gave way and the book ripped cleanly into two, its pages fluttering to the floor like snow. The room went silent as the sound of hand meeting flesh filled the room. Charlie bent down and through sudden tears began to clasp the pages to her. John moved help her but to stopped him

"I don't want anyone going into my room. I got here this morning and what things I have are the few things my mother allowed me to take before she had my landlady kick me out." She said and picked up the torn book. Thanking God she was a sociopath she placed the book calmly on the table ad looked at John.

"When you get that address let me know." She said calmly and slowly pulled on her jacket and gloves. She gave the police a polite nod then walked out into the cold night air.

**One more chapter for the whole A Study in Pink theme. For those who were worrying that this is going to be entirely based on the show don't worry. I'm planning to add on to their lives inbetween cases in the coming chapters. Thanks for reading XX**


	4. Chapter 4

Four 

Sherlock POV:

Sherlock stepped out of the apartment and immediately saw the small, rather unkempt man standing before a cab parked in front of 221 Baker Street. The man was staring at him and seemed to smirk a little.

"Cab for Sherlock Holmes." He called and Sherlock arched an eyebrow.

"I didn't order one." He said and the man's smirk became more apparent.

"Doesn't mean you don't need one." He said, he had a rough; east London accent.

"And what if refuse?" Sherlock asked and the man looked up behind him towards 221 B.

"Then I might just run into your lovely lady friend, Charlotte if I'm correct." He said airily and Sherlock felt his hands clenched.

"If you even touch her…" He started but the man cut him off.

"I promise; I won't hurt a hair on her head. I didn't even kill those people Mr. Holmes, I talked to them and they killed themselves." He said with a proud note in his voice.

"If you call the police now, I won't run; I'll come quietly but I can assure you one thing… I'll never tell you what I said." Sherlock felt the first stirrings of interest. This was his greatest weakness and this man knew it. He looked back to the apartment above him and sighed. Sociopath he was but he definitely wouldn't allow Charlie to get hurt, or John for that manner. He turned back to the cabbie and nodded, stepping towards the car and climbing into the back seat. The man grinned and walked around to the front of the car, got in and started the engine. Sherlock took the time to study the interior and noticed a photo on the dashboard. It showed two smiling children, a tear down the middle removed the mother from the picture. Interesting. As they drove away he looked back and saw Charlie burst from the apartment and start to walk away. He smiled to himself and settled back against the hard, leather seats as they rounded the bend.

John POV:

Alright everyone, we're done here." Lestrade announced to his team and murmurs of relief were heard throughout the apartment. John looked at the tired inspector in shock.

"Where are they going?" He asked and the man shook his head.

"God knows and I feel for the people they run into." He said.

"You know him better than anyone though." John pointed out and Lestrade shook his head.

"I've known him for five years - her for about five hours - and no I don't." The police inspector sighed and John felt for the man. Sherlock definitely wouldn't be an easy person to put up with.

"Why do it then?" He asked.

"Because, and I hate to admit it, we need him. He's a great man true and I think, if we're incredibly lucky and that Charlotte straightens him out enough, he'll become a good one." Lestrade said and John stopped and thought about. He struck himself on the head for not seeing the odd relationship forming between his flat mates before. He looked up at the inspector and wished him good night. Donovan, always having to have the last word, spoke.

"He'll always do this; he'll just let you down." She said bitingly and John found himself wishing Charlie hadn't left. Donovan finally left and the apartment was still and silent so John sat down heavily on the Union Jack pillow on one of the stuffy armchairs. A loud 'ding' echoed through the room and John rushed to the laptop, in the rush of things he had forgotten about the tracking device. He saw the red dot which showed the location of the phone and typed in the phones number as fast as he could. It rang out but, with no surprise, wasn't picked up. Charlie's number was typed into his hone and as it dialed he hoped they weren't too late.

Charlie POV:

The air outside was freezing. It bit through her jeans and leather jacket as if they didn't exist and Charlie's breath came out in enormous foggy puffs. She saw a black cab drive around the end of the street. She walked rapidly, her direction unknown and many times she nearly crashed into other people. She wrapped her hands around her arms and focused all of her attention on the case in an attempt to rid her mind of the frustrating images of police officers pissing people off. She wondered who the killer could be. He had to be someone who had the means to hunt people in the middle of a crowd, someone who all these unconnected people trusted even though they had never actually met. This meant he was smart, smart enough to kidnap people and get them to trust him long enough to kill them. He was also a narcissist who had nothing to lose so he would keep killing until he was caught or killed himself. It hit her in an instant, hadn't she just seen… Her stomach dropped. At that moment her phone rung so she stopped suddenly and pulled it out.

"Hello?" She asked and John's voice floated through to her.

"Charlotte, I know the address." He said and she heard him pull on a jacket.

"What is it?" She demanded and listened carefully whilst he told her.

"Meet me there in less than ten minutes, I don't care how just do it." She yelled and snapped the phone shut. Her head reeled for a moment as she began to think. Without warning she flung herself off the pavement and out onto the busy road. Tires squealed and she fell heavily as another black bonnet hit her legs.

"Shit." It was definitely going to bruise and she was lucky not to have broken something but now was not the time for it. She picked herself up and ran to the cab door, swung it open and yelled the address to the terrified driver. In hindsight it hadn't been the smartest thing she had ever done but it had gotten results and not ten minutes later she was standing in front of two identical white building. Her cab drove off and she waited for as long as she could for John to arrive, nerves running higher and higher as the minutes ticked by. She noticed that another cab was parked out the front and her cab driver hypothesis was confirmed. In the end she had to stop waiting. The cleaners were obviously in so she headed to the building with lights on but no sounds. Got to give cabbie's credit, they knew a quiet spot for a murder. This killer was obviously unstable, had nothing to lose so it wouldn't be surprising if he had already done Sherlock in. She preyed earnestly, for the first time in her life, that she was wrong. Sherlock could be rude, childish and at times down right clueless but, against her better judgment she had come to enjoy being around him and John. Over her dead body was he not getting home to pay the rent. She began to run through the neon lit corridors, checking every door for the tall, sarcastic person who was Sherlock Holmes. Although worried she didn't allow herself to panic, if Sherlock had at least two brain cells to rub together, which he had proved earlier that he did, than he was one of the few people she knew would be able to get out of this ridiculous situation alive. She approached the final door. She recognized the deep, even tone of her room mate and sighed in relief, she tensed however at the softer, lightly accented tone that could only belong to the killer. She inched carefully to the door and peered inside. The two men sat facing each other separated by a plain wooden table and two identical pill bottles. The killer had his back to her so she couldn't see his face but she could tell by the grey hair, hunched shoulders and soft voice that he was older, his accent suggest origins in east London and his arrogant posture; nothing to live for. Sherlock had a slightly bored expression on his face and the two men continued to stare at each other. Sherlock spotted her and his eye widened slightly.

"I'll have the gun." He said casually and Charlie heart squeeze painfully.

"Are you sure no-one's ever gone for that option." The cabbie said.

"The gun please." Sherlock repeated, as calm as if he were just asking for a new cigarette. She could now see that the man had an ugly, black gun pointed directly at Sherlock's chest. She bit her lip, very unsure; the gun had to be either fake or unloaded or Sherlock wouldn't let this man point the thing at him however this fact didn't stop her from crying out when the trigger was pulled. Sherlock stood and Sherlock smirked at her. The cabbie turned with a look of surprise but recovered.

"Ah Charlotte, right on time." Sherlock drawled and she scowled.

"Ah Miss Myers, a pleasure to meet you." The cabbie said and she started, uncomfortable that this man knew she was. She herself recovered.

"Traffic was awful." She said and, eyeing the man carefully, walked over to the table. She moved to stand beside Sherlock and the two of them looked down at the man who was now grinning.

"I can always tell a real gun when I see one." Sherlock said smugly.

"The others couldn't." The killer said and Sherlock nodded thoughtfully.

"Obviously." He smiled slightly. Charlie had a sudden urge to hit him. He had just scared the living hell out of her and now he was having a lovely little tete tete with a serial killer.

"Oh well." Was all the cabbie had t say after that and Sherlock drew away. He placed a warm hand on the small of Charlotte's back and began to steer her away. Charlotte could feel the heat radiating from that spot and her whole body seemed to become incredibly sensitive to his touch. She firmly pushed the feelings away and allowed herself to be guided back towards the door. A voice rang out from behind them.

"Just out of interest, which bottle would you have chosen?" Charlotte felt Sherlock's whole body tense as he stopped, his hand dropped away from her back.

"Ignore it?" She tried and her smirked down at her. Damn his bloody height. She rolled her eyes, knowing nothing she could do short of shooting him would stop him now. Slowly Sherlock turned and moved back towards the table, pointing at one of the bottles.

"Oh, interesting." The cabbie said and stretched out his hand for e other bottle. Charlotte now recognized the genius behind the game in front of her, how this man "killed" his victims. The two men twisted the caps off the bottles and tipped the pills from them, barely taking their eyes from each other. Sherlock raised the pill to his lips, his eyes moving from the killer's to hers. Charlie stared at him and nodded.

"It's your life." She joked weakly and he smiled. The pill touched his bottom lip. A shot rang out and, hearing the window smash, Charlie whirled around to look out the window, catching a dark sleeve as it disappeared around the frame. She cursed and turned to see Sherlock towering threateningly over the now dying man.

"Your sponsor, who is he?" Sherlock growled and Charlie stalked ot his side. Using her finger she plunged it into the wound making the man scream in agony.

"The name!" Sherlock bellowed as the weeping man twisted in the steadily growing pool of his own blood.

"Moriarty!" He screamed and, with a dreadful sighed relaxed against the blood soaked tiles. Charlie pulled her now bloodied hand from the wound and stood, pulling Sherlock away as well. For a moment the two of them gazed down at the dead man then looked at each other. Charlie spoke first.

"Sherlock," She said and he nodded.

"Charlie?" He said and she jumped at the first use of her nickname.

"The next time you want to for a drive with a serial killer will you please let me know where you're going?" She demanded and he smiled. They stared at each other for a long moment. Charlie felt the urge to hug him but fought it. The sound of sirens filled the air and the pale walls of the classroom began to glow blue and red.

"Oh fantastic." She muttered.

"Right on time, as usual." Sherlock said sarcastically. They grinned at each other and Sherlock walked to the door. Charlie gave one last look at the contracted killer then followed him out f the building.

It was some time later, whilst Charlie and Sherlock sat wrapped in bright orange shock blanket and wearing horrified expressions, that Lestrade came to see them. Sherlock stood and began to berate Lestrade.

"Why are we wearing these things again?" He demanded.

"It's for the shock." Lestrade said and Charlie snorted.

"That and some of the boys wanted to take photos." Lestrade then asked about the shooter.

"That shot had to have come from a professional, a kill shot from more that 25 feet, has to be ex-military or something similar..." Sherlock began and Charlie looked around to see John standing some distance away, has in his pockets and a very interesting look on his face. It clicked. Her foot collided with the back of Sherlock's knee and he spun aound to yell at her. She indicated with her head and Sherlock followed her gaze, it clicked as well. He shut up.

"Actually forget that." He said and Lestrade stopped writing.

"What?" He stuttered.

"Forget what I just said, I'm in shock look I have a blanket." Sherlock said and indicated to said blanket. Charlie stripped off her own blanket and walked over to where John was standing with a feigned look of casualness on his face. She threw her arms around him and hugged him, it was awkward but she meant it. After a moment he wrapped his own around her two.

"Thank you." She whispered in his ear and they parted. He shrugged and winked at her. Sherlock arrived and the two men gazed at each other.

"Sergeant Donovan's just been explaining everything... the two pills..." John said and Sherlock nodded.

"Good shot." He said

."Yeah, It would have to be wouldn't it, through the window..." John said in a wondering tone.

"Are you all right?" Sherlock asked and Charlie thought suddenly about the fact that John had just killed someone and tried to imagine how normal people usually feel about this.

"Yeah I'm fine." John answered casually.

"Well you did just kill a man." She pointed out and he nodded.

"Yes, that's true...but he wasn't a very nice man." He stated.

"That's true." Sherlock remarked and they turned as one to walk away.

"And frankly," Sherlock continued.

"He was a bloody awful cabbie. You should have seen the route he took us to get here." They all laughed at that, grateful to each other for different reasons for still being able to have this conversation. "Ssh!" John demanded and hey tried to sober a little.

"We can't giggle! It's a crime scene!"

"Well you're the one who shot him!" Charlie pointed out and he looked horrified.

"Keep your voice down!" He hissed, as they passed Sergeant Donovan he spoke louder.

"Sorry, it's just nerves."

"Dinner?" Sherlock asked, almost as if they hadn't just spent the entire day hunting down a serial killer. Charlie nodded and looked up to where a man in a suit was getting out of his car.  
>"Sherlock! That's him! That's the man who kidnapped us!"<br>He looked up and his face darkened.

"Oh I know exactly who that is..." He muttered and they walked forwards to meet him.

"So..." the man spoke as they neared, "Another case cracked then. How very public spirited."

"What are you doing here?" Sherlock demanded rudely and the man tutted..

"Always so aggressive. I'm concerned." He mocked and Sherlock grew angrier.

"Yes, I've been hearing about your concern." He looked over to his two companions, Charlie turned her own scowl on the man as he looked at her apologetically.

"Has it ever occurred to you that maybe we should be on the same side?" He said to Sherlock. Charlie suddenly noted something between the two men but now was obviously not the time to say it, although she was busting to let it out.

"Oddly enough...no." The detective said and the man sighed.

"This petty feud between us is silly, people will get hurt. You know how it always upset mummy..." The man said and

"I upset her? Me? It wasn't me who upset her Mycroft!" Sherlock yelled and John spoke up.

"Mummy?" Asked John. "Who's mummy?"

"Oh just their mother John, can't you tell their brothers? Same eye shape, moderately similar build…" She said and the Holmes brother's looked at her in astonishment.

"How long have you known?" Sherlock asked and she shrugged.

"Officially, about five seconds but I've had my ideas since Mycroft, if that is indeed your name, kidnapped John and I." She said and Sherlock nodded.

"Mycroft Holmes, I apologise for not introducing myself earlier." He said and Charlie extended her hand. He brushed her knuckles with a smooth kiss and Sherlock went rigid beside her. Charlie pulled her hand back and simply stared.

"So he's not like a criminal mastermind or something?" John asked.

"Close enough." Sherlock muttered. Mycroft sighed.

"I occupy a minor position in the British government." He said and Sherlock snorted.

"He _is _the government. When he's not being the CIA, the FBI... Good evening Mycroft, try not to start a war before I get home, you know what it does to the traffic." He gently walked Charlie away, hand on the base of her back again. Charlie went away but gaze back to where Mycroft still stood. John stayed behind for a moment.

"So when you say you're concerned about him...you actually are concerned?" He asked and Mycroft nodded.

"Of course, he is my little brother after all. He's always been so resentful. You can imagine the Christmas dinners." Mycroft said with a despairing look at his brother's retreating back. Charlie smiled a little and Mycroft smiled back at her. He waved and John nodded farewell. Charlie felt the pressure on her back build slightly as Sherlock pressed slightly harder, almost pushing her away.

"Good night Miss Myers, Dr. Watson." Mycroft called.

"Good night." John murmured but Charlie merely nodded. The three of them walked away and began talking. Mycroft watched them retreat again.

"So..." Charlie started. Sherlock's hand was still on the small of her back.

"Dinner?"

"Yes, Chinese. I can always predict the fortune cookies." He said smugly and she hit him lightly on the shoulder.

"No you can't." John teased and Charlie smiled.

"Almost can. By the way where were you actually shot John?" Sherlock asked.

"Oh yeah, in the shoulder." He said.

"Shoulder, I thought so."

"No you didn't" Insisted John.

"Left one?"

"Lucky guess."

"I never guess." Charlie shook her head a this.

"Yes you do. What was with those bottles back there?" Sherlock sighed and tried to deny it.

Mycroft POV:

They talked amiably while Mycroft watched from afar.  
>"Those two could be the making of my brother. Or they could make him even worse than ever. Either way we had better upgrade their<p>

surveillance status. Grade 3, active."

"I'm sorry sir?" His assistant replied.

"Who's status?"

"Sherlock Holmes, John Watson and Charlotte Myers." He said and watched them until they disappeared out of sight.

Sherlock POV:

It was around 3 by the time they entered the lounge room of 221 B Baker Street. John had muttered about going to bed and Charlie hadn't returned from checking in on her aunt so he sat down and picked up his violin. He didn't play, just ran his fingers over it. Footsteps on the stairs told him Charlotte was coming. She entered the room and sighed, closing the door and leaning against it. Exhaustion was whittled into very pore of her body.

"Go to bed Charlotte." Sherlock said and her head snapped up. She removed her jacket and hung it on the close peg.

"What about you?" She said and he grinned at her through the darkness.

"See unlike you I'm used to staying up his late, you'll be useless tomorrow if you don't try to sleep now." He said and she nodded.

"Fair enough and moved to the couch, not to her room as he had expected. She lowered herself down onto the chair and closed her eyes.

"Wake me up in four hours, I have work tomorrow and thanks to your wonderfully considerate brother I can no longer afford to be late." She said and he nodded. He grinned as she curled up and drifted off to sleep. In a rare moment of kindness he picked up a blanket in the linen cupboard and covered her with it. Just as he did so he saw the same scar she had tried to cover before and wondered what would have had to have happened to her for it to happen. He realised at that moment that Charlotte Myer was one of the few people he couldn't read, an odd and slightly disturbing notion that both thrilled him and annoyed him. He went back to his chair and sat down, staring into nothing as a new day began to dawn over London.

**So there you have it people. He final installment of "A Study in Pink" don't worry there will be more chapters but only a few. I want to get the whole first series done by the time the next season comes out so we'll see how this goes. Thanks for reading. Stay safe everyone in London, my thoughts are with you. XXX**


	5. Chapter 5

Five

Mia POV:

Charlie awoke with a start to the sound of a small explosion coming from the kitchen. With a violent stream of four lettered words she rolled off the couch with a loud bump, picked her self up and stumbled towards the kitchen. Black smoke was pouring from the microwave and she laughed, leaning against the door jam, at the sight of a stunned Sherlock poised in the act of opening said microwave's door. His face was a picture of surprise, confusion and most of all disbelief.

"Forget about the eyeballs?" She asked with a yawn, stretching as he looked over at her with a frown on his face.

"No" He said defiantly and tried to re-close the door with the air of a child who was trying to hide the fact that he had broken his grandmother's urn. Charlie wasn't buying it. She crossed her arms in front of her chest and fixed him with a glare.

"Oh, so what exactly am I to blame for my rude awakening… wait a second!" She cried and ran to the microwave; Sherlock's face twisted into panic. She opened the door and peered inside.

"Shirley, you put the toast in the toaster and you don't put the butter in the microwave." She reprimanded as she gazed into the small, smoke filled space to gaze at the burnt puddle of plastic and carbon.

"I know that now." Sherlock muttered and went away without another word to sulk on the now vacant couch. Charlie went over to sit next to him. He steadily ignored her, fixing his attention on the mouldy ceiling.

"Hey, don't sweat it. I could burn water if you let me… nearly burnt the entire house down when I was ten when I tried to fry an egg." She said and a small smile crossed both their lips at the thought of the small red head calmly eating her carbonized egg whilst the house burnt down around her. The clock on the mantel chimed and Charlie looked at it and swore violently. It was 8:00am and she was definitely going to be late.

"Shit, Sherlock you were supposed to wake me up an hour ago!" She yelled and fled the rooms like a mini tornado. She ripped her still un-emptied bag open and pulled out the first things that she laid her hands on; which happened to be a pair of black skinny jeans, a bright red work shirt and a woolen grey vest. She yanked a wooden brush through her sleep tousled mop of crimson hair and tried to make somewhat presentable as she raced back down the corridor. She was pulling on the work shirt as she re-entered the lounge room and gave Sherlock a full glimpse of her half naked as she raced around the place. She tripped twice while she pulled the stubborn jeans over her legs and put her arms through the wrong hole of her vest as she scrounged the room for her wallet, phone and laptop bag. Her shoes were too much of a hassle to find so she pulled on the converse she had worn the day before heading out the door. She paused at the top of the stairs and looked back. Sherlock was lying on the couch looking utterly miserable and bored. She sighed.

"You're bored." She stated rather than asked.

"Obviously." He muttered testily and she arched a brow.

"Okay, I want you to count the number of cabs that drive past this apartment during the time that I'm out then divide it by the number of people who enter the shop next door; without sitting near or looking out the window." She said and turned on her heel before he could argue. She moved like the wind down the stairs and raced for the door.

"See you at six." She yelled over her shoulder as her Aunt came into view.

"Have a wonderful day my darling." She said and handed her a small paper bag that smelled like heaven.

"Thanks." Charlie said, kissed her on the cheek and ran out of the apartment.

She arrived at St. Bartholomew's Hospital with two minutes and five second to spare, nodding politely to the ladies at administration as she sped past and entered the ancient lift that took her to her workplace. The ancient device carried her down slowly and Charlie all but ran when she finally stepped out and moved towards her office. The morgue, labs and psychology department were all on the same basement level. Charlie remembered one of her earliest days working here she had asked her boss Thalia why they had allowed such a thing.

"It's so the newbie's get a healthy dose of fear, dead bodies do the trick nicely with normal people… it's a joke to the powers that be." She had answered with a laugh, her eyes taking in the look on Charlie's face that had obviously said 'People are supposed to be scared of dead bodies?' At the memory Charlie smiled and sailed through the door to her office right on 9:00am. Her office was tiny; barely four metres square with a large wooden desk with an ancient computer and a pair of grey metal filing cabinets. She plonked herself down on the swivel chair behind the desk and pulled the rather large pile of files in her inbox towards her. For the next few hours she was bored almost stupid as she filled out the necessary psychological files involved in recent police case. She was well past lunch by the time she reached her final one which by chance was the very case she had helped solve the night before with the help of her brilliant yet ignorant flat mate. She noted with glee that the file was signed off by Anderson and Lestrade, proving that neither would have gotten any sleep that morning.

"Poor Donovan." She mocked as she placed the completed file into the outbox tray and relaxed against the chair. She rested her head back against her hands and closed her eyes. A knock at the door brought her back to reality and she saw Thalia's blonde head poke around the side of her door.

"G'day Charlie, how's the filing coming along?" She asked cheerfully, her Australia accent coming through thickly as she spoke. She walked over to the desk and picked up the awaiting files from the outbox.

"Ya know you're too good for this job right?" She said to Charlie who simply nodded, not obnoxiously just stating the truth. She could be working for the government or the secret intelligence however she hadn't wanted that job, just a comfortable one.

"Yes, I am well aware that I am over equipped and over qualified to even work at this hospital however it suits me to stay so…" She said and fixed Thalia with a piercing green stare. The busty, blonde merely flicked her wrist dismissively.

"And here I was thinking you were staying for my wonderful company." She said and sighed dramatically. Charlie smiled and studied her happy boss who had obviously 'got some' the night before. Thalia suddenly leaned forwards her spectacled blue eyes peering mischievously at Charlie.

"How's everything at home? I can tell you've finally moved out… you're happier than you've been in months, hell even years!" She said excitedly and Charlie rolled her eyes. He boss might be turning forty this year but by God she was still a child on the inside.

"I moved into one of the apartments in the block my Aunt Em owns in central London, three way rent with a couple of guys." She said and Thalia perked up immediately.

"Men? Oh how scandalous. Either of them nice to look at?" She asked and Charlie cocked her head to the side to think about it, her mind screaming at her to say yes. She brushed the thought away and answered in typical Charlie fashion.

"John's ex-military, a little stiff but very polite and friendly to everyone and Sherlock is well…"

"Hold that very thought." Thalia interrupted.

"Sherlock, as in Sherlock Holmes the detective?" She asked and Charlie nodded, waiting for the whole 'he's weird' or 'he's a nutcase, what the hell are you doing?' routine that she had gotten from just about everyone else.

"Shit, whatever you do don't tell Molly, she might develop an aneurism." Thalia said with a laugh. Charlie just looked confused.

"Does she like him?" She asked and Thalia nodded. The older woman had long accepted Charlie for what she was and was the one person Charlie trusted besides herself, her aunt and the two guys She had always answered Charlie's questions as seriously as possible, twenty years in the field gives you both patience and insight with the wired ones and Charlie was certainly so.

"Him and the ground he bloody walks on poor thing, should probably take a lesson from our book on sociopaths and realised he's not worth the effort." Thalia said and Charlie nodded.

"I assume this hasn't stopped her from trying?" Charlie asked and Thalia nodded.

"Not in the slightest, every time he's in the lab or morgue she follows him around like some lost puppy." Thalia remarked dryly and stood. She walked to the door with the files under her arm.

"He comes often enough too, when's he's working one of his cases. Just a day or so ago he was whipped some poor cadaver with a riding crop to inspect the marks in relation to a case he was working on." She said and Charlie snorted with amusement.

"Sounds like Sherlock." She said and dismissed her incredulous boss with the wave of her hands.

"I just hope you know what you're doing, see ya later Babe." She called and left. Charlie rested her head on her arms and closed her eyes. She though back on the night before and smiled to herself. It seemed moving to London had been the best decision she had ever made. Cardiff had been her place of residence but not her home, during her time there she would spent most of time either at work or on the way to and from there. The apartment she'd been sharing with her mother had merely been a resting place; she had never gone out and she had no real night life to speak of. With a sigh Charlie pulled her thoughts away from such thoughts and began to play solitaire on her computer. She won eight out of ten games, not her best but it helped her pass the multiple hours she had left until she could leave. Sometimes having a semi-photographic memory was a pain, things became simple too quickly. She hoed that spending time with John Watson and Sherlock Holmes wouldn't end up the same way.

Sherlock POV:

At precisely 5:45pm Sherlock Holmes could be found lying, his back pressed firmly against the wall, counting silently as cabs and people went about their daily business. He was still bored but he had actually discovered a way to tell the difference between car engines at around ten o'clock so at least the challenge was continuing smoothly. He didn't actually know why he kept counting, maybe pride or something similar wouldn't let him stop until he actually completed, the challenge. Anyway he continued to count the constant stream of numbers until all he could hear, think or feel was the preferred make and model of London's cab drivers. He was going to kill her.

"A cigarette would be wonderful right now." He said to the grinning skull on the mantel. As usual the bleached bone merely stared back at him and didn't reply. Sherlock scowled at it wishing Charlie was here to talk to. A thumping on the stairs told him John was back from his trip to the supermarket. Sherlock could hear him complaining as he made his way into the room.

"Bloody stupid machine, whatever happened to good customer service?" He asked Sherlock who merely ignored him and continued his silent monologue. A soft thump hit his chest and he opened his eyes to see a fresh packet of nicotine patches on his lap. Immediately he opened it and slapped two to his inner arm; much to John's professional annoyance.

"So she who stole your patches isn't back yet?" He asked and Sherlock fixed him with a look that clearly asked him to start reevaluating the capacity of his brain. John took the hint and turned towards the kitchen with his load of plastic bags.

"I'll take that as a no." He said and began to unpack the food and other necessities from within said bags. Sherlock waited counting another two cabs and another person.

"You've got mail." John said and Sherlock was up in a flash. He rushed to the kitchen, snatched the large bundle of letters from John and began to leaf through it. After going through the whole pile he walked across the lounge room and tipped about ¾ of the pile into the open fireplace before placing the remaining quarter on top of the mantel and plunging his penknife through their centres. He leant against the mantel and crossed his arms, waiting. His own laptop called for him, as did the bell over the door of the shop downstairs, and he walked calmly over to sit down in front of it. John walked up behind him and gasped.

"Sherlock." He said in a warning tone but Sherlock merely waved him away. The screen was filled with an article dated back about ten years, the picture showed a very familiar although slightly red head gazing wit bored frankness at the viewer. The article then went on to recount a series of murder investigations that had rocked Cardiff ten years ago. The police had been about the call it a cold case when a seventeen year old local girl and walked in and handed them enough evidence to interview and prosecute a man who went on to admit guilt before a court of law. Sherlock opened another link and it took him to another article where Charlie had actually handed in evidence of a guilty verdict. All in all he open about five, most were just a expose of the murder investigation and Charlie got about one or two lines; Sherlock assumed that this was due to her own intervention rather than the papers, what paper wouldn't want to report that a fourteen year old was solving crimes the police department had given up on. That was her identifier he realised. She only went for cases that were closed or in the process of being closed; sentimentality perhaps?

"If she was and is this good; why didn't she become a detective like you?" John asked and Sherlock opened his mouth to speak.

"Who didn't become a detective?" An interested voice asked from behind them and Sherlock felt John go rigid beside him. Charlie stood in the doorway of the apartment; weary and loaded with all her work stuff. John moved away from the computer to sit down in one of the chairs; a guilty expression on his face. Sherlock wondered how n earth he had been a good soldier if the truth could be read straight off his face. Charlie took off her jacket and threw her laptop bag onto the couch as she made her way over to where Sherlock sat. He slammed the laptop screen down and she quirked that eyebrow at him again.

"Oh, why do I have the feeling you two grandmother's were having a lovely little gossip session about… me." She said as she pulled the screen back up and as met with her own face. She stared at her younger self for a moment, a strange look on her face that Sherlock now realised was hurt. Then she turned and smirked at them.

"Why didn't you just ask?" She asked and put her hands on her hips. John went red and began to splutter.

"You weren't here and I was bored." Sherlock said calmly and she sent him a look.

"Did you get that number I asked you?" She asked and he nodded.

"There was a total of 281 cabs that went by between the tie you left to the time you arrived, I divided it by the 50 people that entered the shop next door and got… 5.62." He said and she nodded.

"I'll take your word for it." She said and he looked affronted.

"You don't actually know." He demanded and she shook her head.

"You see Shirley, unlike you I have better things to be doing than counting the number of cabs that drive past my apartment during the day… dear god man why don't you just go outside?" She sighed dramatically and went to seat herself down upon the couch with a sigh.

"Seriously, you can count the number of cars going past without looking yet you can't cook toast, almost as funny as the fact that I can recount every word of my psychology text book during university but couldn't tell you whose Prime Minister at the moment." She said and closed her eyes. Sherlock looked down at the exhausted woman and smirked. It was too much of a temptation and besides he **was** bored.

"John, go get your coat." Sherlock said and John looked up from the paper he was reading. He looked at the smirk on Sherlock's face and the relaxed one of the sleeping Charlie and gave Sherlock a dirty look.

"I'm actually going to stay in tonight; you look ready to do something stupid." John said and Sherlock smirked, watching as his new friend disappeared back into the recesses of his room. He walked into the kitchen and filled a saucepan with water. With careful ease he moved into the lounge room and paused to think of the actions he was about to undertake. On one hand he was actually starting to enjoy life, one the other this was sort of in the name of science. He braced himself held out the saucepan then tipped it so the whole thing came raining down on the sleeping woman. The moment it hit her she jumped about a foot in the air and swore so viciously that Sherlock actually laughed. Slowly she looked up at him with glittering eyes. He smirked and put the saucepan down carefully.

"You are dead." She said simply, like she was announcing the weather for tomorrow and peeled her sudden form from the couch. Sherlock decided that it was now or never. He bailed, turning on his heel and running like buggery towards the door.

"Oh no you don't!" He heard Charlie yell and couldn't help it.

"Oh yes I do Charlotte." He called and laughed as she screamed, her footsteps quick and light on the stairs as she chased him out of the house.

John POV:

John watched in amusement out the window of his room as the two craziest people he knew ran out onto the busy peak hour traffic \. Sherlock was fast and wasn't afraid to jump the bonnet of speeding cars however he had royally pissed Charlie off and she herself wasn't a bad runner. He chuckled and began to type on his blog page. Life had suddenly become a great deal less boring, something he would have laughed at if one had asked him a few weeks ago.

Charlie POV:

He was going to die. Not only had he ruined her sweater which she had spent ages trying to find but he had also had the balls to call her Charlotte, hadn't she made it clear she bloody hated that name. She bolted down an alley after him and waited, a crash from un ahead told her he was heading to the roofs. She grinned and ran to the fire escape, bursting out at the top of the building a minute later. He was waiting by the side of the building, grinning at her. She tore after him, not even pausing when he neatly jumped the concrete railing he was leaning on and began to sprint across the next roof

"Having fun now?" She yelled after him and he waved.

"Obviously Charlotte." He said and she screamed at him. God damn his long legs and god damn her smaller ones. For the next half an hour she chased his slim form over the roof tops of London, jumping, sliding and nearly losing him on several occasions. Finally she caught him. He was running along a roof top when she intercepted him, dipping her shoulder in a rugby style tackle and barreling into him with all her strength. Together they fell in a tangle of limbs and swear words, Sherlock managing to roll so that he caught Charlie before she hit the ground. Their faces were inches apart Charlie and Sherlock stared at each other. Then they just about flew away from each other, Charlie rolling off him and Sherlock almost running away.

"Let's get home, I reckon John's gonna have a fit when he sees the time." Charlie said and Sherlock nodded. She shivered violently, her soaking clothes very uncomfortable in the freezing night air. Sherlock moved towards her. He slowly removed his long overcoat and placed it snuggly around her shoulders. She pulled it tightly around herself and smiled up at him.

"You still owe me a new sweater." She joked and he grinned. The two of them began the long trek back to Baker Street, Sherlock cracking jokes on the state of her dress the whole way.

**If you squint, you can see the fluff****. I hope you're all enjoying it. Keep up the reviews and I'll be back with more chapters soon. **


	6. Chapter 6

Six

Charlie POV:

Just like she had predicted John was furious however he was angrier with Sherlock for driving Charlie outside in wet clothes. She was shivering when she finally sat down before the roaring fire and began to feel its warmth. A takeaway container filled with rice and Asian vegetables was put in her hands and she smiled at John before burying her face into the stuff. When she was done she listened to the yelling match between John and Sherlock, something about filling the bath with enough blood to drown someone in or something, while she flicked through the channels on the small TV in front of her. There was nothing on, a few murder mysteries, some stupid cooking shows and the odd comedy sitcom but to be honest she was too tired to care. As a shampoo commercial filled the screen Charlie remembered she needed a shower she dragged herself from the chair she was in and after stopping at her room to pick out some pajamas and a towel she slammed the bathroom door shut and locked it. She placed the overlarge men's shirt and old shorts on the sink before looking around. There was indeed blood in the bath, and following the trail, on the walls. She screamed piercingly. Running footsteps alerted her to the two men followed by an immediately there was a pounding on the door.

"Charlotte, open the door!" Sherlock yelled and with a trembling hand she turned the lock and opened the door, staring up at the two men with a deathlike pale face.

"What the yell is it doing on the walls!" She screamed at Sherlock and he looked at her in astonishment.

"You don't like blood?" He asked and she shook her head vigorously.

"I'm fine with blood, just not on the walls. It reminds me off…" She broke off and choked on the words. John peered around her and bit his bottom lip at the blood splatter.

"Ah," Sherlock said and merely looked proud.

"Just like I thought. Childhood trauma; probably a violent death or attack that happened to a close friend or family member. I'm going to go with family member because you don't have many friends and none of which actually exist outside work; according to the photos in your bag. Plus there's the blood splatter, you're fine with bleeding and pools of blood do not affect you on the floor as was proved with the cabbie not 24 hours ago so…" Sherlock began to rant and Charlie slapped him hard across the face. The sound echoed throughout the house and John looked ready to run out of the house himself. Sherlock's eyes bulged slight as he realised just how far he had stepped over the line. Charlie looked livid, her usual expression of complete calm destroyed as she gazed up at the tall, dark haired man in absolute fury.

"I will give you one warning Sherlock Holmes. You may ask me about my family, you can tease me about how crap my life is by the state of the freaking amount of dirt upon my shoes however if you ever try to delve into that ever again I can promise right here and now that you will never see me again." She said and her eyes blazed as she slammed the door in his face. She leant her forehead against the back of the door for a long moment, completely drained, and then hauled herself away in pursuit of the shower. After tugging off her clothes she stepped into the steaming water and scrubbed herself clean, carefully washing the cuts and bruises that were forming from her tumble on the rooftop. After about ten minutes she got out, wiped herself down and dressed. Ignoring the ruby splatter on the white walls she left the room and walked into the lounge room with a smile. She settled in one of the armchairs, pulled a book out from the rather battered looking bookcase and buried her head in its dusty pages as the two men looked at her wearily. After a few moments she got bored, she had already read the book; Of Mice and Men, and looked over at them with a puzzled expression on her face.

"Is there something on my face?" She asked sweetly and the two men shook their heads. There was a chess board on the coffee table and she pointed to it.

"Anyone up for a game?" She asked and John shook his head, knowing full well he had no hope of beating this woman and wanting to keep some pride after the disaster that this night had become. He watched as Sherlock nodded, turned around and began to set up the 40 black and white pieces of wood. Charlie smiled and waited.

"Which colour?" Sherlock asked and tilted her head as she thought about it. Black or white, Charlie thought to herself and decided to go harder on herself tonight.

"Black." She said and he quirked a brow but said nothing. Soon the two of them were deep into the game, taking, recovering and moving pieces all around the board. Never once did either of them take their eyes off the other.

"So, I heard you spent a fair time at the lab at St. Bart's." Charlie asked as she moved her rook forward to take one of Sherlock's unprotected bishops.

"Yes, their labs are quiet easy to get into and have a highly ranked resource department; very convenient if I'm working a late case." He said and she nodded. He moved his knight and collected an exposed pawn that was on the verge of metamorphism.

"Don't see much of you in the psychology department; I've worked at ST. Bart's for 2 years and one month but I didn't even know you came until my boss told me about it today." She said and moved her queen forwards.

"Easy access would mean using that little lab assistant's affection for you to get in wouldn't it?" She asked and Sherlock smirked.

"Naturally." He said.

"What about you, two degrees in psychology and criminology in less than five years that's impressive… why not try for a position in the government or something similar; Mycroft I'm sure would be very helpful." He said with a small sneer at the mention of his older sibling.

"Oh please, I'm a lot like you. Government job; "For Queen and Country" sounds a little dull, I want the freedom to move around, legroom if you will." She said and he nodded.

"St. Bart's is also convenient for me, I can work all hours and the pay isn't too bad now that I've got you two sharing the rent. Besides working with your brother would not only be slightly awkward due to the obvious dislike towards him on your part. You should really discuss that whole mother issue Sherlock; he might have upset her but do remember you played a little part yourself." She said and saw him stiffen slightly.

"Oh." Was all he said and she nodded.

"Family matters only get worse with age; trust me my own were a bloody nightmare by the time I moved out." She said and took his other bishop.

"I see mother issues yourself." He pointed out and she grimaced.

"Let's not go into that, I won't push the Mycroft issue if you don't push the Mother Dearest." He nodded and they dissolved into a comfortable silence. For the next four hours they battled it out on the chess board. John fell asleep at about 12 but the game continued.

"What made you want to do this kind of detective work?" Charlie asked and Sherlock frowned as he thought about it.

"Well, the police department is…"

"An embarrassing attempt to placate the general public." She said and he laughed.

"Something like that. I figured out pretty early that I was a whole lot smarter than people even double my age and it became almost a game I suppose." He said and she grinned.

"Ever come across a case you couldn't solve?" Se said and he frowned deeply.

"Yes." He said and she tilted her head quizzically.

"Must have been young then, everything I read about you today says differently." She said and he smirked.

"So you read about me as well." He said and she grinned.

"Guilty as charged the pair of us. Lestrade seems alright though, a little clueless sometimes but overall not a bad guy; I mean he put up with a lot of crap from you and I the other day." She pointed out and he merely stared at her.

"He's annoying. Wouldn't be able to function without me." He said and she smirked.

"And you without him, you need him for an excuse and you know it." She teased and he scowled from across the board. John awoke with a start and glanced at the clock over the mantel.

"You're both mental, I'm going to bed." He said and Charlie stood up. She hugged him goodnight and thanked him for dinner.

"I'll win for you." She said to his retreating form and heard him chuckle as he entered his room. She returned her attention to the game and met Sherlock's amused gaze.

"I notice you play violin, Mother force you into that one or did you?" She asked and he cocked his head lightly.

"A mixture of both I think, I was the youngest and probably the most disturbing of her children so I think we both agreed on it so I had a reason to stay out of her way." He said and she nodded.

"My mother forced me into piano lessons for nearly ten years. I became very good at it, just not while she was around." Charlie said and Sherlock laughed.

"Stalemate." Charlie said and Sherlock looked down at the board. They smiled and shook hands. Charlie curled herself around the arm of her chair and turned her attention to the late night murder mystery on the television.

"These ones aren't as bad as that prime-time crap from America, a little more classy if you ask me." She said and Sherlock snorted.

"Can't stand them all really, I can see who it is after fifteen minutes tops." He said and she sighed.

"The problems of being a genius." She said sadly and he nodded. They looked at each other and began to laugh. Sherlock shaking with silent laughter whilst Charlie tried to stop herself from falling out of the chair. When she finally calmed.

"What day is it?" She asked and he looked at the clock.

"Saturday." He said and she swore.

"Gotta go take the meds." She said and walked off down the corridor. She rummaged through her toiletry bag and pulled out a battered pill case that had belonged to her grandmother. It was a mother-of-pearl and black ebony case and Charlie smoothed its worn edges before opening it a taking two different pills from it. She replaced it and, after taking a large jumper from her bag, went back to the lounge room. Sherlock had lain down on the couch and was applying fresh nicotine patches.

"Damn, wish you told me before I took those." She said and he looked over at her as she crawled onto the other end of the couch. She smiled at him and lay down as well, her body fitting close to his as she relaxed.

"What are you doing?" He asked stiffly and she smirked at him.

"Sleeping, or trying to, some idiot keeps talking to me." She said and he nudged her not too gently with his foot, nearly sending her crashing to the floor.

"Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit. Anyway I knew that just wanted to know why it was on my couch. He said and folded his arms across his chest. Charlie yawned and smiled at him.

"Oh please, as if I actually enjoy sleeping in a bed; I've always slept on a couch." She said and held up a hand to stop his next question.

"No work tomorrow. Know what that means?" She asked and he shook his head, he was adorable when he looked confused. _Wait did you just call him adorable? Stupid medication!_

"Sleep in." She said, shaking her head to clear it. He frowned.

"A what?" She merely laughed and closed her eyes.

"Good night Sherlock." She mumbled and he smiled in the darkened room. She pulled the blanket she had found closer around her shoulders, covering the faded shirt completely and shielding her tiny frame from view. Sleep enveloped her very quickly but just before she drifted off completely she swore she heard him whisper.

"Goodnight Charlie." _Stupid medication._

Sherlock POV:

He still couldn't believe he was doing this. How on earth had he allowed himself to be dragged into going shopping with Charlie was unbelievable. Not that he had had much choice in the matter; she had all but dragged him from the house in search for a new vest for the one he had ruined on Friday night. It was now Sunday and she had decided that today was the day for shopping. John had come along, claiming to be in need of a prescription for his knee but really he was just enjoying the sight of Sherlock stiffening slightly as they walked through the woman's department. Both he and Charlie were quiet bored but Charlie need that vest, apparent it had been important so he had grudgingly agreed.

"What about this one?" She asked for about the one thousandth time and Sherlock nearly swore. She was just annoying him but it was working, he could actually feel his brain rotting away as he stared around him in the middle of the department store.

"Look Charlotte just get whatever you want and I'll buy it but I am actually going to beg that we leave immediately before John's manhood and my own disappear in a cloud of Channel No.5." He said and she gave him a pitying look. It was true the entire store seemed to be filled with more perfumed fragrance than actual air and Sherlock could feel his brain slowly suffocating.

"Alright, I'll get it if it means that much to you." She said and both men sighed in relief before grinning at each other as she tuned away.

"Works every time." Sherlock muttered and Charlie whirled to look at him. He gazed at her innocently and she smirked.

"Fine, keep your secrets." She said and turned around, mumbling something about men. A scream of distress brought all three of them to a halt. They followed the noise until they found a woman, crying and calling out hysterically while several bystanders looked o worriedly.

"What's happened?" Charlie asked and an older woman looked around.

"Her girl's gone missing and the mother thought she saw a man lerking around this section just a few minutes ago." She said and Charlie was immediately interested. She looked at Sherlock pleadingly and he rolled his eyes. From is pocket he pulled out the stolen ID pass he had swiped from Lestrade and moved towards the woman.

"What happened?" He asked and she began to control the sobs long enough to explain that she had been looking at a dress nearby when she had heard running feet. Looking up, she said, she saw an older man with greying hair standing in the isle opposite and her daughter running up and down the main thoroughfare.

"I j-just looked away for a f-few seconds-s and… when I looked back sh-she was gone!" The distressed woman said and Sherlock merely nodded. Honestly the most likely explanation for all this was the child had simply wandered off to the toy section or fallen asleep under a clothes rack. He thanked the woman politely, refraining from rolling his eyes before walking back over to where the little girl had last been seen. He began to check the surrounding area for the child, if she wasn't there then Plan B. He could feel Charlie's gaze following him and the small crowd began to copy him, pulling apart the clothes and peering under racks. He sensed rather than saw Charlie walk over to where the distraught woman sat in stunned silence, her face in her hands and her shoulders shaking as she sobbed into them. He turned away and continued his shirt, grinning at the avoidance of having to go through a dull shopping trip. Okay so he wished it wasn't a child, he had never enjoyed cases involving them so he wasn't really having a great time however it beat standing around watching Charlie bore the socks off him while she went clothes shopping. Thinking about the older man he prayed, though he didn't believe in God, that he was one hundred percent correct. He walked over to where Charlie and the woman were talking and just managed to catch the end of the conversation.

"She's doing an assignment on Edgar Allen Poe's Annabel Lee; he was talking to her about it… he was very intense…"

Charlie POV:

"What's your name?" Charlie asked and the woman spoke from behind her hands.

"Belinda Jones." She said and Charlie nodded even though the woman couldn't see her.

"My name is Charlotte Myers. What's your daughter's name?" She said and the woman looked up at her with a tear stained face.

"E-Emily but she only answers to Emma." The woman choked and Charlie took the woman' trembling hands in her own, nearly resulting in a broken hand as the woman squeezed it tightly. She gazed deep into the woman's eyes.

"I need you to calm you breathing. I'm a trained psychologist as St. Bartholomew's hospital and I need you to calm down before shock renders you completely useless to me and to this investigation." She said and the woman gulped back her tears and began to control the ragged breaths she drew.

"That's better, now what I need you to do is close your eyes." She said and the woman looked puzzled.

"I want to try and help you remember exactly what happened to your daughter; it's an American psychological exercise but I figured since its fresh the memories will come a lot easier than waiting around." She said and Belinda nodded before closing her eyes.

"Now I want you to picture yourself standing as you were when you last saw your daughter, what was in front of you? What did the air smell like? What could you hear or see around you?" Charlotte recited and the Belinda's eyes began to flicker as here memories came flooding back.

"There was a blue dress in front of me and I could hear Emily playing. She's laughing; calling out to someone so I look over… the man's just standing there reading I think… Emily's running away so I just look back. Wait! What was that noise? Like a squeal or shout… a boy's voice." She said and her eyes flickered open as she came back to reality.

"There was a boy, a young boy she was talking to in a book store we were in earlier, and I didn't even think to ask where his parents were I just assumed… oh God he took my Emily!" The woman began to hyperventilate and her eyes grew wide in panic. Charlie smacked her lightly across the face; bringing the dark haired woman back to calm.

"How old was the boy?" She asked and the Belinda thought about it.

"About 15 or 16, I'm not sure but he had blonde hair; really messy." She said and Charlie nodded. She squeezed the woman's hands.

"What was your daughter talking about with this boy?" She asked and the woman's eyes widened.

"She's doing an assignment on Edgar Allen Poe's Annabel Lee; he was talking to her about it… he was very intense." She said and Charlie began to grow worried.

"She wanted to leave immediately after talking to him so we did, I just thought she was bored." Belinda said. Sherlock who had walked up to them snorted slightly and Charlie smiled at the woman before shooting him a warning look. She bid Belinda goodbye and followed Sherlock over to the runway. She stifled a giggle as he lay himself flat upon the ground and began to inspect the floor. He was peering at the tiled ground of the main thoroughfare as though by staring at it Emily would float through it and he would be able to go home. She waited until he got up and the two of them spoke at once.

"She was taken by a young man."

"She left with a male of about 16 years of age." John shot them an amazed expression before moving over to them.

"So it wasn't the old man?" He said and they shook there heads.

"Oh good, because I've been talking to this guy over here who claims to have been reading at the time." He said and pointed to where a guilty-looking man of about fifty seemed to be searching with the other and Charlie nodded.

"That's right, Belinda said she saw him reading." She said and John smiled.

"This boy then, where would he take a girl?" He asked and Sherlock put his hands on his hips.

"No idea." He said and Charlie frowned.

"_And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side _

_Of my darling, my darling, my life and my bride, _

_In the sepulcher there by the sea, _

_In her tomb by the sounding sea_." Charlie recounted and Sherlock looked at her like she was mad. John merely tried to look as though he understood and failed miserably.

"This isn't the time for poetry Charlotte." He said and she growled at the use of her given name. Ignoring the comment she bit her lip and began to think.

"She was talking to this boy about the poem Annabel Lee," She said and Sherlock's eyes widened.

"Of course, _In this Kingdom by the sea, _where do you think he's taking her?" Sherlock shouted and began to run. Charlie sighed and began to sprint after him. She heard Belinda call out from behind her and didn't need to turn around to know the woman was also following her.

"Tower or London?" She teased Sherlock and he grinned.

"Tower, much easier to be unnoticed." He said and she nodded.

"Good… thing i… listen during… interviews." She panted and he nodded as they narrowly avoided being hit by a car as they ran out onto the road. John caught up to them, as did Belinda, and they all piled into a taxi that Sherlock miraculously managed to flank down.

"Where are we going?' Belinda asked and Charlie explained.

"Your daughter has been kidnapped by a 16 year old boy, he's a obsessive and paranoid narcissist. He has probably been following your daughter for months. He finally asked your daughter to go out with him after talking her up in that bookstore and she refused. By refusing she wounded his ego she has to pay for this humiliation; he's going to kill her then himself… so they can be together forever." Charlie said and looked over to Sherlock.

"Romantic isn't it?" She asked and he nodded. The woman gasped and began to stammer in anger.

"How can you say something like that? He's going to kill my daughter!" She screamed.

"Not if we get to Tower Bridge in under approximately 3 minutes." Sherlock said and Belinda began to sob. John shot his Charlie and Sherlock twin evil glares before putting his arm around the dark-haired shoulders. He murmured comfortingly to her and exactly three minutes later the three of them were running up onto the tower bridge in full peak our traffic.

"Can you see her?" Charlie asked as Belinda looked desperately around for her daughter. She began to shake her head then she screamed and pointed. Following her finger Charlie could see a pair of teenagers perched on the ledge in the shadow of one of the bridges four pillars. The girl was crying and the blonde boy beside her seemed to be yelling and comforting her in intervals. Surprisingly it was John who reached them first. He had taken off almost immediately after Belinda had pointed and had reached the couple way ahead of eve Sherlock. They found him, trying to talk the boy out of letting Emily go.

"Please James, look at her she's terrified of you… do you honestly want to make your love that scared of you?" John was saying and the young man looked to see Emily's tear stained face. He seemed to deflat a little and tenderness filled his face.

"No, but that's beside the point." The young man said, bitterness returning. He began to lean back over the edge, his arm holding Emily to his side tightly. She was begging him to let her go, screaming for her mother. People stopped and began to rush forwards.

"I can't let her go… we were meant to be together." He said and with all three of them watching, fell backwards off the side of the bridge… taking the screaming Emily with him.

**Duh duh duh! What's going to happen? Should I kill her? Save her? You decide****. Reviews people that's what's driving this fountain of creativity. Love ya peeps. **


	7. Chapter 7

**Seven**

Sherlock POV:

Sherlock sat, silent and still, while nurses rushed by in a chaotic blur. The whitewash walls of the hospital corridor seemed to burn his eyes as he and John sat waiting for news. John had insisted that he come, something about taking responsibility for ones actions or something stupid like that. A nurse walked up to them; her face extremely grim. John looked like someone had punched him in the guts. It was an odd expression if Sherlock thought about it, being punched in the diaphragm always seemed preferable than the pain people went through over their feeling and attachments to others. The nurse led them down the corridor and into one of the rooms. One of the beds was filled, its occupant very still and very pale; her breasts rising and falling slowly with each breath. There was one other person in the room. Belinda looked up from beside her daughter's bed side and gave them a tightlipped, watery smile which John returned. Sherlock merely sighed; why did they have to visit the girl if she wasn't even awake, he highly doubted talking to a coma patient was going to be very productive in fact he rather wished Charlie were here…

"Sorry I'm late. Trying to catch a cab in London nowadays is a bloody nightmare." A familiar voice called from behind them and Sherlock felt a strange sensation in the pit of his stomach as Charlie walked over to where they stood and stared down at the sleeping girl with a bored expression on her face. He grinned to himself at the sight of her dress; a sleeveless turtle neck patterned in black and white stripes, her pales legs were sheathed in bright red stockings and her red hair was piled into a messy bun that had obviously missed it's daily combing. He quickly dismissed it and smirked at her.

"I told you to leave earlier; it would have saved time…" Sherlock began. He saw her cheeks flare a slight shade of pink (barely noticeable to most) and she held up a single finger; he fell silent.

"One more word and will hide your skull _and _your eyeballs." She said and he wisely stayed that way. John chuckled whilst Belinda merely looked confused.

"Don't ask." John advised her and Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"Why are we here again?" He asked and John scowled.

"Emily has been showing signs of waking up… she apparently woke up yesterday said your name then relapsed." Belinda said, ignoring the rudeness of the question and standing to clasp her little girl's hand. Eyelids flickered slightly but she didn't wake.

"The doctors say that she should make a full recovery, despite the fall… thank you again John if you hadn't grabbed her I'd hate to think of what would have happened to her… probably something like that poor boy." She said and shuddered. Sherlock thought back on what had happened.

_As the pair fell back Sherlock cried out. He watched, almost in slow motion as John moved forwards and __just about threw himself over after them. Charlie moved forwards and grabbed his legs to keep him from toppling over the edge himself and the pair of them began to wiggle to pull whoever they had managed to catch back over the edge of the bridge. As soon as John's feet were planted firmly on the ground the four of them helped him to pull the now unconscious Emily back onto the sidewalk. The girl looked like she had a broken arm and there was a thick line of blood coming from her hairline which Sherlock suspected had com from the side of the bridge when John had caught her. Belinda, sobbing hysterically by now had taken her bleeding daughter from John and sunk to the ground, pressing her lips to her daughter's dark curls and whispering softly. _

"_Nice catch John." Charlie said and moved to look over the edge of the bridge and down onto the Thames. Sherlock moved to stand beside her and also peered down. James broken body was now lying, face up in the river, he face pale and completely lifeless as he gazed up at them. Charlie turned to look at Sherlock and the two of them exchanged identical stares of disappointment._

"_I should have seen that coming… psychology degree and all." She said and he shook his head._

_I don't think there was anything either of us could have done too differently that would have changed how this ended… neither of us are negotiators however it is true that you could have suspected…" He trailed off and she hit him lightly on the shoulder. _

"_Shush Shirley, you didn't predict it either even with your superior knowledge on all things." She pointed out and he rolled his eyes and they moved back to help John and Belinda. _

Lost in his thoughts he hadn't realised that Charlie had spoken to him.

"What?" He said intelligently and she smirked. He mentally kicked himself.

"Have you answered those letters I left on the mantel this morning?" She said and he nodded.

"Even the one from Arabia?" She asked quietly; well aware of the busy hospital around them. He nodded but seemed less than pleased.

"I don't think I'm the right person for this kind of thing however it is a diamond." He said and she smiled.

"Of course you didn't because the great Sherlock Holmes has absolutely no idea what to do when something goes missing." She teased and he scowled before turning his attention back to the now awakening Emily who, although hadn't opened her eyes, was squeezing her mother's hand and trying to speak. They all leaned closer to catch it.

"Mo… Mor…" She seemed to be trying very hard to say something and Sherlock leaned in very close till their cheeks were almost touching and his lips beside her ear.

"Try again Emily." He said and she drew a long shuddering breath.

"Mess-age for Sh-Sherlock 'olmes." She said breathlessly.

"Yes," He said and she drew another rattling breath.

"He s-said… to w-watch out for him s-sexy." Sherlock frowned but continued to listen.

"Who?" He asked and Emily's eyes opened suddenly. She grabbed his coat tightly and held him so their eyes were centimeters apart. The sixteen year old wet her lips and her eyes darkened momentarily.

"Moriarty." She said and fainted clean away. Sherlock released himself from her grip and moved away. Brushing invisible lint from his clothes, he indicated for Charlie to leave with him and the two quickly made their goodbyes to Belinda who wished them all the best… in between her never ending thank yous. Sherlock moved away as Belinda pulled Charlie into an obviously uncomfortable hug and whispered something in her ear. Charlie's stiff posture stiffened even further, if that was even possible, and she shook her head briskly. Belinda just smiled and wished her luck.

"I'm going to need it." He though he saw Charlie mouth to herself and frowned.

"What was that all about?" He asked and she waved a hand towards him.

"You're supposedly the genius around here, you figure it out." She said and he shoved her lightly out the door. He heard John apologise and smirked as they headed to the exit. Standing outside the pair of them breathed deeply in relief. People, cars and bikes all rushed past as the odd pair stood ext to each other; Sherlock tall and striking in his traditional trench coat and Charlie shorter by a head and dressed in stripes.

"Well…?" Charlie asked and Sherlock shrugged. He decided to walk. Charlie kept up with him as they began to move slowly through the crowded street. The pair of them were silent but not uncomfortable with each other. Sherlock gazed over at his silent companion and marveled at the colour of her hair. It's beautiful shade was becoming rarer now and he resisted the urge to reach out and stroke a thick strand and twirl it around his finger. Sherlock felt an uncomfortable impulse to put arm around her waist and he noticed she seemed to be so close yet not once allowed their hands to touch. She even pulled her arms around herself. He fought the feeling off valiantly and began to listen as she spoke.

Charlie POV:

Charlie was in absolute turmoil. As she and that sociopathic bastard of a genius walked down the street she began to wish they were a little less… them. The wind began to blow a little and she pulled her arms around herself and gazed steadfastly down the street.

"Why does that name keep popping up everywhere?" She asked him and he seemed to jump.

"Moriarty? Seems we're not the only ones who get bored Charlotte." He said and she scowled at him from beneath her fiery fringe. She had reminded him countless times not to call her that and yet the insufferable jerk continued to say the damn thing whenever he could. Like she need more reminded of her mother… she had been late this morning thanks to the female half of her biological origins and had left the apartment in a hurry after speaking to her on the phone for nearly an hour. Neither had given into apologizing; they were both too proud for that but Charlie had the feeling that her mother had generally wanted to talk rather than yell, as she had, down the phone line at her only daughter.

"Oh, so this is a regular thing for you is it? I can't help but ask seeing as I've only been in the job for a two weeks but even an amateur such as myself knows things like this don't happen everyday. This Moriarty hired someone to kill… who does that?" She asked, she wasn't impassioned merely curious. Who would sponsor a serial killer and why? He shrugged. She resisted the urge to throttle him, he honestly couldn't help being a jerk could he?

"I honestly don't know but I have a feeling; yes I know…" He said at her amused look. She smirked but held her tongue.

"I hypothesise that we will find out sooner or later." He said and she nodded. There was a café nearby and Charlie felt a sudden craving for toast and jam.

"I'm hungry, by me some lunch will you." She said and he looked at her like she was mad.

"What? I don't have money and I need to eat so come on." She said and sat down on one of the hard, iron chairs. After a slight pause Sherlock joined her, sitting in the chair opposite and gazing around the packed café in boredom. This was going to be such a pleasant experience. A waiter, a young man of 24 going by his state of cleanliness and facial hair, walked up them and after trying to flirt with Charlie took their order.

"It's like Angelo's all over again." She said, burying her face in her hands with a groan, and knew that Sherlock had to be smirking.

"Please shut up." She said and he actually chuckled.

"Why are you in London Charlotte?" Sherlock asked, more out of politeness than ignorance. If the phone call this morning had been anything to go by he had probably concluded that her family life was about as smooth as his own.

"How's Mycroft going with his diet?" She retorted and her head flew up as she pierced him with a glare.

"We had an agreement." She reminded him and he merely shrugged.

"Fine, safer topic then… why psychology? Your smart enough to do anything and yet your happy to sit in a small office for about 8 hours five days a week… why?" He asked and she smiled.

"It's sort of a joke really… something to remind me of why I bother sometimes. Also it's easy I have more time to think about things when I have menial work to complete… probably come in handy now I'm around you." She said and he nodded; an unconvinced look in his eye. Silence reigned heavily between them until Charlie's lunch appeared and she thanked the young waiter, who slipped his number under the dish as he placed it on the table. She barely looked at him while he walked away; visibly saddened but not unperturbed.

"Fantastic." She muttered and spread the jam generously over the pieces of toast on her plate. When they were satisfactorily slathered she folded them in half and bit in the bread closing her eyes in relish and simply enjoying the sweetness. She could feel Sherlock's amused gaze on her but ignored him. He stretched out a hand a grabbed a piece of her toast and bit into it.

"On the table three over there's a woman in a green dress… who is her lover and who is her husband?" She asked Sherlock who started she opened her eyes to find him looking over at said woman for a split second.

"The waiter over by that table is her lover and the man sitting two down from her with their son in between them." Sherlock said without pause and Charlie smiled.

"How many children does that man over there have?' Sherlock asked ad pointed to a middle aged who was sitting with a woman who looked lie his wife.

"None, she's a call girl… going by the state of her stockings." She said and he grinned at they both stared at the blonde woman's laddered stockings with amusement.

"Whose the wealthiest person in here?" She asked and he simply nodded towards a stout elder woman by the bar who sipped a quiet glass of cherry before she groaned.

"How many men had that woman had intercourse with in the past week?" Sherlock asked and Charlie took a bite of her toast before answering.

"Two. Her husband, going by the wedding ring, and a lover, going by the fact that said husband has not turned up in the past hour and yet she is doll up to the nines." She said and Sherlock smirked.

"It won't last." He said and she nodded as the poor woman gazed around at the still crowd.

Almost makes you hurl, people put themselves through so much just because they feel… that's why I don't bother." She said and he nodded slowly. Suddenly he stood up and walked over to the woman. He whispered in her ear and watched as she got up quickly and ran out of the café, tears streaming down her face as she passed their table. Charlie waved goodbye to her retreating form just as John turned up. Sherlock returned to his seat and the two sociopaths started to laugh. It had been a rather mean thing to do but the woman would have been their all day if they hadn't done something and seriously wouldn't it be best for everyone involved?

"What's so funny?" John asked as he sat down in a borrowed chair. Charlie explained what had happened and fully expected him to laugh too but he merely frowned at the both of them reproachfully.

"What?" She asked and he shook his head.

"You can't just do that to people Sherlock, it's a) no polite and b) quite hurtful to people." John said as though the pair of them were two years old and learning to use their manners properly. Sherlock suddenly looked awkward and Charlie actually felt rather bad. The two looked at each other over the top of the table and sighed.

"Not good?" They said in unison and John rolled his eyes. They caught the drift and went back to their toast. The bill came and was paid for and the three left the café. Sherlock merely raised a hand and a cab pulled up beside the kerb they were standing on. Charlie growled.

"Really, first time and you get a cab?" She asked incredulously and he smirked. He opened the door and indicated for her to enter. Struck by his manners she smiled and settled herself inside. He clambered in and left John to crawl in behind and shut the door.

"So is Belinda going to be alright?" Charlie asked and John nodded.

"Emily should be ready to leave at the end of the week. Their going to go home and try to forget what happened, oh and Lestrade showed up… wants both your heads on a silver platter." He said and both Charlie and Sherlock pulled faces. John chuckled as Charlie rolled her eyes.

"Well I'd like to know where or good-for-nothing chief inspector was when we were pulling that girl back onto Tower Bridge?" Charlie said in a huff and stared grumpily out the window until they pulled up outside 221 Baker Street. They got out, paid the driver and walked into the apartment. Aunty Em must have been out because there was no sound from within the flat. The three of them climbed the stairs and entered 221 B. John and Sherlock removed their coats before moving into the lounge room. Charlie merely kicked off the ballet flats she was wearing and led the way. All three settled themselves down into their personal favourite seats and stared at each other for a moment. John settled comfortably into his Union Jack pillow and Sherlock and Charlie curled up on the couch they often shared whenever they were in the room. After a few moments of silence Charlie spoke.

"Weren't you going to do the shopping John?" Charlie said and John groaned.

"But…" He said and she growled, much to Sherlock's obvious amusement.

"But nothing, I did it the other day now it's your turn. Shoo!" She said and made flapping motions in his direction. He sighed and stood up, grabbed his jacket and wallet before heading out the door. She grinned at Sherlock and stood. He grabbed is violin and began to tune it. It sounded rather mournful in the quiet room but Charlie loved it when he actually played, just not when it was 3 o'clock in the morning.

"Don't forget about those letters Sherlock, I know you lied to me before." She said and he groaned.

"Fine." He said irritably and moved to the mantel once he finished the tuning. She smiled and moved over to him.

"You did good Sherlock, I know this morning's been dull but a case had got to spring out of nowhere right?" She said and tentatively wrapped her arms around his back, resting her head between his shoulder blades. They both stiffened at the contact then suddenly relaxed. She swore she heard him sigh in relief. She let go quickly and stepped back. They gazed at each other awkwardly, Sherlock unsure of what to say and Charlie shocked by what she had just done.

"I'm going to go have a shower, peek and you will die." Se said calmly and began to walk away. His voice stopped her as she entered her now organised bedroom.

"Thank you." He said and she smiled. Maybe this whole situation would just pass. She didn't like him, she couldn't… could she? With a small smile she moved into her room, picked out a more suitable array of clothes and moved to the bathroom. She also brought her stereo; setting it up as far away from the shower as possible before turning it up and undressing. The shower was turned on and she stepped into it. Even as the shower thundered I her ears and the stereo blared Charlie could almost swear she heard thumping. She stopped to listen but couldn't really hear very well. Shrugging it off she returned her attention to washing. It had almost sounded like a fight but seriously why would a fight be going on in 221 B Baker Street?

"Shit!" She yelled and slammed off the water. Grabbing a towel she hurriedly dried herself; listening to the sounds of thumping and grunting coming from the living room. Piling on her underwear and tee shirt she ran out of the room, hoping she didn't miss too much of the fun…

**There we go… A Study in Pink finished. I'm going to be writing a new story based on The Blind Banker so look out for it****. It's going to be called I'm Banking on It so look out for it and thanks for all your support. **


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